


Dreamer

by QueenKaito



Category: A Nightmare on Elm Street - All Media Types, Crackfiction - Fandom, Friday the 13th Series (Movies), Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Blood, Blood and Gore, Bonding, Bromance, Camp Crystal Lake, Childhood Trauma, Comedy, Crack, Death, Escape, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fantasy, Fights, Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Haddonfield, Horror, Insanity, M/M, Madness, Male Friendship, Male Homosexuality, Male Slash, Mental Health Issues, No beta reader, OOC, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Friendship, Sarcasm, Smith's Grove, Torture, Violence, crackfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-05-17 09:27:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 23
Words: 130,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14829701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenKaito/pseuds/QueenKaito
Summary: Being the guard of Camp Crystal Lake could be so nice and easy, but when an intruder shows up and strange things start to happen, it's not even compared to nice and easy anymore. The lake turns against him, dead people appear, the camp keeps them trapped and the guy that showed up drives him crazy!>>Crackfic + no beta reader<<~gets continued when creativity strucks again~





	1. Praise the deaf!

**Author's Note:**

> So, first thing:  
> "Ahoi!"  
> Second:  
> I'm from germany, english is not my native language, please forgive me for wrong spelling, strange grammer and such! *bows down*
> 
> This is the first work I subscribe here. I don't know how many chapters it will contain, I'm not even sure where the story is going!  
> I hope I'll have the strength to continue with the story till the end, cause honestly it's not my first try of writing something longer than maybe one or two chapters and yeah, well in the past I failed poorly...Anyways...Let's hope for the best!

 

Something is off. Jason can't clearly pinpoint what, but something's off. From the moment he woke up on the dusty floor of his cabin till now, when he's on guard in the forest surrounding Camp Crystal Lake. The air is strangely heavy, physically heavy and seemes to vibrate. The trees around him seem like walls. They look like always, but they feel strange. They seem not like the usual vegetation, kind of more solid and thick. As if he would try to reach the outside of the forest, he would never do so, but **IF** he would he wouldn't reach anywhere near the other end. Everything feels thight and kind of sticky and...he tries to find another word to describe the place, but none comes into his mind. Off, something is just off.

The further he walkes, the more he has the feeling of being watched. He turnes around every now and then, but there is nothing except the dark trees, a layer of fog floating over the ground, the damp air sticking to his clothes and the normal noises of the forest and it's creatures. Listening to his own footsteps and being aware of whatever is the cause of that strange feeling he has, he walkes to the lake. Maybe there, without the thick walls of trees around him, the heavy feeling would fade away. He fears the lake yes, but it too is the most peacful place at the camp and his guard includes it as well.

No, no the unpleasend feeling doesn't fades away. As he walkes at the shore of the lake, watching the layer of fog swirl over the surface of the dark water like a featherlight blanket, the heavy feeling becomes even worse. Not only the air seemes to vibrate, the lake does too. Like there could be a huge outburst causing a monster wave at any moment and he would get hit and drift away with the water. He stops and lets himself heavily drop down on one knee, reaching out his right hand only far enough to slighty touch the point of the shore were the water hits the muddy ground. The memory of drowning in the pitch black depth of this lake is more than vivid. Over the years of being the guard of the camp, he never allowed himself to get nearer to the water as a ghostly touch of his fingertips with his hands reached out far and his upperbody stretching as far as possible from his save position on the solid ground. It always filled his whole being with a slight thrill.

As the cold water makes contact with his equally cold skin, a jolt like a lightning strucks through his body. Making every muscle tense and every nerve jump. Burning, it burns! Immediately his hand snetches back and out of his kneeling position he, somehow, manages to do a motion what could be described as some kind of a jump backwards. Wide eyed he stares at the lake, breathing heavily, feeling the humidity rise under his mask and his heart pounding hard in his chest. The feeling of thousend little spiderlegs walking up and down his arm from his fingertips to his shoulder and back. Never had that happened before.

Fear? Yes.

Anixety? Yes.

Terror? Oh, yes.

Any other unpleasend psychological feeling? Sure.

But a physical hit with something that felt like an electrified wrecking ball? No, that's new.

Stroking his left arm firmly with his right hand, trying to shoo away the spiders running on his nerves, sitting on the wet and cold ground, his stare remaines on the water. The surface is as smooth and dark as befor, the fog still floating over it. What the hell was that?! Did something living in the lake managed to bite him? Raising his hand right in front of his mask, he looks closely at the rotting skin. An exposed piece of bone here and there, black, dead meat at some areas, greyish skin, but no, no bitemarks or other hints of what may had caused the jolt. So, it was no kind of sea monster that is new to his neighborhood and just had introduced itself. Good...or not, no not good. What was it instead? Huffing he shoves his body up to his feet, clenching and unclenching his left hand, while still staring questioningly at the lake. Besides drowning in it, the lake never did harm to him. It wasn't the lakes fault anyway and since giving his life to it, there always was a silent connection between them. Some days, when a feeling of restlessness started to rise inside his soul, he even sat on it's shor, getting calmer at it's view.

What ever it was, it maybe was something he should just leave alone, as long as nothing disturbes the peace of the camp. As long as it stayes in the lake and doesn't harm the lake, it should be none of his concerns. Tilting his head in his typical, " _I don't even know why I'm here_ " manner, he exhales a deep breath and decides do go back to his cabin. Leaving what ever it was alone and observing everything from a fare save distance.

Sunrays, sharp and a kind of cold white fall trough the dirty and some broken windows into the cabin. When he comes back there, it's nearly afternoon. It's the same sun as every day, but it's light…it's different. Bright as if reflecting on a blanket of snow. Irritating the eye. Moving around, dust from who knows how many decades and dead leaves the wind carried inside starting to swirl all around illuminated by the sunlight. Letting himself heavily drop down on the floor, causing a cloud of dust to rise, he leans against a wooden wall and closes his eyes.

_Shut them, squeez them shut and rub them, maybe after that everything will be as usual_ , he says in his head.

Lifting both hands and driving them under his mask, he rubs and presses into his eyes strong enough to let twinkeling sparks appear in the dark behind his eyelids. But no, letting his hands slowly fall down into his lap and hesitantly opening his eyes again, nothing has changed. Something is still off and it's slowly creeping deeper and deeper into him causing annoyence and an urge to rip his own skin off. What happened to change the reaction of the lake to his touch?

It's right in the middle of exhaling an annoyed breath when he suddenly feels a foreign aura appear out of nowhere. It feels kind of simular to his own, but in a strange unknown way. Somebody is there on the grounds of the camp and it's no stupid human stumbling happy and dump into it's own death.

\----------

Blinking his eyes open, his vision is blurry. It's hard to not let them fall shut again immediately. Coming slowly around, his body feels numb and heavy with a little sensation of buzzing nerves. It's bright and the light hurts his eyes while he tries to focus his vision. He's not able to see much, but he can feel the cold ground under him. Cold and damp. His clothes are sticking slighty to his body and what's that smell?

Slightly sniffing the air, he smells wood, dirt, moss...A forest?

Birds are chirping somewhere above and around him, some crackling noises in the distance, rustling leaves as a light breeze goes through the treetops. Yap, it's deffinitely a forest. But, rising his cold and sticky hands to his face while expressing a silent low grunt, how the hell did he get into a forest?! Immediately he feels the soft layer of rubber covering his face under the touch of his hands. Surprised and hesitantly he starts patting all over his face and head. He wears his mask! His eyes fly open only to squeez them shut again in pain. Huffing and pushing is fingers over his eyelids he tries to figure out the situation. Okay, he seems to be in a forest, it's day, (What day? What month? What year?), it's cold and wet and he wears his mask. But, what the actual fuck?! What happened? Still laying flat on his back, on the cold ground, feeling his breath speed up, he tries to think about the last thing he can remember. It's far, so far away and blurry.

White walls, people in white clothes, white bed sheets, even the metallic bedframe is painted white and only the stupid floor is a tone of light gray. Corridors illuminated by an annatural light. The sanatorium. His home for so many years, he can't remember how many. Sometimes he even lost the ability to tell if it's day or night. Not to speak about days or month. He's not even sure about the current year.

Ok, what happened last? Distantly he remembers he felt like going completely insaine. The same shit every day, the same damn white walls every day, the same idiots talking to him every day. To get a break of all that monotony, he decided to do something really stupid, like attacking someone, faking a tantrum, trying to escape, the usual dump shit people repeated to do at this lost place. Over the years he had discovered that if HE does some dump shit, they won't just lightly sedate him and put him in his cell like the others, oh no, they would fully sedate him and he would have nice, peacful days of sleep without any annoyence until they were sure it would be save to wake him again. So, he had decided to punch a nurse straight in the face. He didn't put up his whole strength, maybe broke broke the guys nose, but nothing critical. Not much effort, but he would get what he wants, the sweet release of dreamless sleep. He remembers at least ten people gather around him, all dressed in that horrible all present white, trying to calm him with their hands up in a harmless manner, a little sting of a neadle somewhere into his neck and then? Nothing. Complete darkness. Peaceful and nice, like he prefered it.

Until he woke up, cold, wet, numb and obviously in a fucking forest without any little hint of an idea how he got there! Did they dump him here to get rid of him? Lifting up in a sitting position with an unsteady movement and an deep groan, he tries to focus on his vision and luckily it slowly gets clearer. His head spins and he feels dizzy. No, they wouldn't dump him here. They sure wouldn't dump him here, they rather would let him rot in his cell until he loses his mind entirely or would literally begin to rot. Wich sane person would consider to dump Michael Myers in a forest? None. But how did he came here then? For a while he sits right there only moving his head to look at his surroundings, trying to figure out what his brain is missing to remember. The more he thinks, the more the nice ache in his head buzzes through it. No use, nothing in his aching head seems to remeber what happened. It's like a big, black hole torn into his brain swallowing his memories into it's endless depths.

Giving up on thinking he stands up to his full high, groaning and first now noticing that he is wearing a dark blue overall and not the annoying white outfit of a loose shirt and loose pants he had to wear at the sanatorium. His hands roam the damp fabric in surprise, it feels very confortable. Neither is he wearing the slipper, he hated the most, no he wears heavy, black work boots. Moving his toes and lifting one foot after the other he enjoys the weight of the boots and the steady feeling. Who ever dumped him here had changed his clothes. Realising that this someone had to undress him befor being able to redress him sends a hot wave into his cheeks. Nah, no don't think about it!

Unable to do something else in his current situation, he decides to walk into one direction as long as he would find something else except trees, muddy ground and dark green, foreign looking plants everywhere. Though his state of confusion, he has his wards up. The longer he walks through the forest, the more this place starts to feel unpleasend strange and odd. The air seems to be so heavy, he can feel it's weight press down onto his body. Like somebody had pushed a button and increased the gravity to at least it's double. It's kind of energetic, like the short amount of time befor a thunderstorm comes down. Everything seems to be much heavier and filled up with pressure as it should be. After what seems to him like hours of walking, it starts to get dark and, how wonderful, it also starts to rain. Not that kind of heavy rain that drains your clothes within seconds, the light kind that creeps it's way slowly and steadily inside until it gets even to your bones. Annoyed, he is so annoyed! Not knowing where he is, why he is there, the strange feeling of this place, rain that will make the feeling of wet clothes sticking to his body even worse and thick fog starting to crawl over the ground. Fantastic! What else could he wish for? He only wanted some days of a coma like sleep…

But, to be honest, things could be worse. He could be still at the sanatorium, listening to the same old bullshit from the same old idiots, pacing around in his cell for hours, captured by everything white except the floor. Feeling how he gets more and more mad by each passing minute until his brain starts to play tricks on him and lets him think the walls are coming closer, tiny creatures crowling all around or to hear somebody whisper far away to not fully understand what. Being topped by all the memories from within the darkest and coldest corners of his mind. Feeling all the fucked up shit spreating it's arms around him, squeezing his last remaining bit of sanity (it's tiny, yap, but it's still there!) out of him. No, compared to that the forest really is not so bad. It's not some kind of club tour, but it's better to roam free as to slowly go insain captured in that idiot factory. Cause he is sure, the longer people stay there, the more stupid, dump and numb they become. Only empty shells of their former selfs.

Steadily walking while he thinks, he almost doesn't notice the aproaching of a really strong aura. Coming straight into his direction from his right side, it feels like something not human, nor an animal or something other mortal. It feels kind of familar, but not in a calming way. Hectically turning around in all directions, he tries to find some place to hide. Trees, trees, bushes, trees....perfect. The bushes are way to small to hide his body behind them, only one option left. With clumpsy movements he gives his best to climb up a near tree. Normally his moves would be fluid and kinda catlike, but his arms and legs still feel a little bit numb, stiff and the surface is wet and slippery. Only slipping twice, not so catlike, he manages to reach the lowest branch just high enough to be out of eyesight. Like some kind of big, wet and heavily breathing squirrel, he sits on the branch trying to hide a little behind the trees bunk, staring into the direction of the approaching energy. What ever it is that will walk through the trees, it's strong and not compared to any other presence he ever felt. Feeling it coming closer, the sounds of heavy footsteps appear, crackling the dead leaves and wood under them. At that point he only dares to breath low and as quiet as possible, not moving a bit. The air under his mask gets sticky, drops of sweat rining down his temples and he feels the water of the rain dripping inside the collar of his overall and running down the skin of his bare back.

When a big, shadowy figure pushes it's way through the trees and busches right in front of the tree on wich he hides, he stops to breath and feels his heart skip a beat or two. His grip thightens on the slippery bunk and he feels his eyes starting to burn while he stares, frozen, not daring to blink once. Who the fuck is this?! He's tall, a little bit taller than himself, broad shoulders, bulky, dark clothes with holes and ripped at some places, a kind of… Wait! Is this a hokey mask? It is. A hokey mask is covering the strangers face. His skull looks strange and seems to be deformed, his skin like the skin of a rotting corpse, but what really, really catches his attention is the silvery shining machete in the figures right hand. It's already complete dark, but the little of moonlight does a dance on the metallic surface, letting his heartbeat speed up immediately. Knife. He has no knife, nothing! The feeling of being helpless and vulnerable fills his body and panic begins to rise it's uggly face. The guy down on the ground instead seems calm. Standing there, not moving at all, only watching and breathing. The wide shoulders and the broad chest softly rising and falling with every breath. For a short moment only the noise of the rain, the breathing of the frightening guy and his pumping heart gets into his ears.

Suddendly the flapping of wings. It cuts through the silent scene like sharp blades, impossible not to notice. A grey owl landed on the next higher branch, nipping at it's wet feathers. Michael, still frozen, lets only his eyes dart from the bird to the guy under him, back to the bird and back to the guy. There are two options, option a) the bulky dude is deaf or option b) very slow, cause he seems like he didn't even noticed a bit. Still staring right forward not moving a bit. _Praise the deaf_ , Michael thinks while trying to avoid the panic to take over.

As he turnes his gaze back to the owl, it's staring right at him with oversized yellow almost fully round eyes. Norrowing his brows he only manages to think _Oh, please don't..._ when a screeching scream echoes through the forest and his whole being, letting him shiver. The angry looking owl spreads it's wings trying to look larger, it's beak wide open. The next thing his eyes catch is a pair of light blue eyes, one seems to be deformed, not that that detail is important at the moment, but his brain saves it, the other normal, staring right up at him. No, the guy isn't deaf and not blind either. Amazing, his situation is truly amazing!


	2. The Michael Myers reality tv show

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aarrww thanks for reading the first chapter and thanks for the kudos *-* *blushes*  
> I thought nobody would even bother to look at it xD
> 
> This chapter is getting a little bloody, but only a little :P

The damp air in the forest feels cold. It's raining, but he doesn't care. Water soundly dripping down the leaves and soaking his clothes while he rushes through the thick busches. Usually he doesn't likes rain and he avoids to go outside. Every single contact with water reminds him of the terror he felt, when he was drowning in the lake. The long moments of torture, how he managed to come up to the surface and screamed for help, how nobody cared to help him only watching apatheticly from the shore, how he tried to stay at the surface but failed, till his body gave up, he lost his consciousness and sank down like a stone. Surrounded by darkness and water cold as ice.

But now, the only thing he cares about is the foreign energy he feels getting closer to. It must be something out of this world. Like him. Something that normally shouldn't even be there. Rushing through the trees and bushes, the wetness already touching his skin underneath his clothings, he suddenly stops. The sorce of the enegy is close, very close. While standing frozen and calming his breath, he closes his eyes and tries to feel the exact position of it. He must be so close, that if he reaches out he should could touch it, cause the sensation he feels is almost unbearable, but in front of him is nothing except bushes and mudd. He hears the flapping noise of wings interrupting the composition of the drumming raindrops, but doesn't bother to look out for it. The sorce sure isn't an ordinary bird. The more he concentrates, the clearer he can sense it. It tingles on his skin, buzzing, strong, hot, burning with rage, causing goosbumbs to break out. With his eyes still shut, it's almost as if he could see the power of the energy glowing and flackering in the dark of the forest. Whoever the owner of that aura is will mean far more trouble than the usually intruders, he‘s sure. But, feeling that burning sensation, he no longer feels annoyed, no, curiosity takes it's place.

The sudden scream of an owl rings in his ears and lets his muscles jump. It's screeching like fingernails on a blackboard, sending a shiver down his spine. God, if he could die the stupid bird would had scared him to death. Darting his eyes to the branch where the owl is sitting and thinking about if he should throw a rock at that shitbird, he notices what it's screaming at. A dark figure, cowering on a lower branch, slightly illuminated by the dim moonlight, staring right back at him. The frame considerable to his own, but much more elegant, finer, with brown hair in a „ _just out of bed_ “ style and a face so white it seems to glow in the dark. The fact that this one isn't human, mortal or whatever counts as „ _normal_ “ is loudly screaming at him! Letting every kind of alarm signals, flashlights, sirens and warning signs going crazy inside his head.

Drinking in the details within seconds, the next thing his body does automatically is throwing the machete instead of a rock. Slashing first, asking second, right?

Seeing the machete sparkling and with immens speed flying at him, Michael swings down the branch on instict. Amazing, how suddenly the body works on full power and abilities, when in danger, isn't it? With a swift move he lands on his feet, mudd splashing up and he hears the weapon landing somewhere behind him rustling in the thick bushes. Good! If the guy hasn't a second machete hidden in his underpants, he has to look for it before chasing after him. As quick as he is down the tree, he starts to run, taking a head start. He only has his bare hands to defend himself, running is the better desicion! Though the killer inside screams and protests. Speeding up, jumping over dead branches on the ground, movements fluid as like some kind of big cat, he feels adrenaline pulsing through his vaines, causing a pleasant sensation. Fuck, how long hasn't he felt so free?

Jason instead feels his anger rise! Run, they always have to run! **ALWAYS**! Quickly and annoyed looking for his machete, he feels heat starting to boil in his body. Deep grunts of discomfort escaping his throat. He gets them, always, why don't spare the game of cat and mouse and surrender? No, they have to run...It's like a stupid rule nobody bothered to tell him about. Finding the machete sticking halfway into the soft, muddy ground, he grabs it and begins to play along the little game of chasing. Following the rustling noises, he can't deny that he's slightly surprised how fast the guy is. Normally, the humans fleeing through the forest are having trouble with it's conditions. Sooner or later tripping over something, letting the unpleasent pleasure of running at least being short. But this one is no human. Speeding up he wonders, if this one would trip or not.

Soon the only thing he hears is his fast pumping heart and heavy breathing. Sweat is soaking the fabric of the overall, his legs starting to tingle. He turned once, not able to see the bulky guy and continued to run. The trees are getting less thick and he can see through them. Not far away the forest ends completely followed by some kinds of fields. Keeping the speed, he runs straight farward to the fields. One quick boot crossing the border of the forest, he keeps on running.

But, what the hell?! The next moment he has to jump over a big, dead branch, almost tripping, almost(!), again surrounded by thick standing trees and other vegetation. Stopping in confusion, he leans his arms onto his knees, panting for air. His heartbeat is pounding in his ears, fuck he's out of shape! His eyes are scanning in every direction. One moment he's about to leave the forest, now it seems like he never started to run. Confused looking around, he searches for the fields, but no, he's deep into the forest again. How's that possible? Is this some freaking kind of illusion?

As Michael turns, the only thing he can see is the blade of the machete dashing down only inches away from his face. His body knows how to react. Fast moves, though for himself they seem slower than usual. Wasting his time in the sanatorium really ruined his condition. Slash after slash, he avoids them all moving with a certain ammount of elegance and experience. The other guy instead seems clumsy and crude. Way too much strength in his slashes, his movements way too less fluid. Maybe his bulky shape keeps him from moving better or not only his head is deformed but his brain too? Whatever, Michael isn't stupid enough to let arrogance rise up in his mind. No matter how clumsy or crude that guy is, he's strong and obviously convinced to kill him and full of rage.

Doing a fast move to the left, he slips on the wet ground, but manages to catch himself onto his hands. The same second the machete strikes to his right, slashing with massiv force into the ground. Jasons face, well mask, near enough to his own, kneeling halway, he can see the fragments of light green embedded into the rich blue irises. The flesh around the eyes is a kind of pale grey. It looks like it's rotting, but still kind of alive. The mask a little dirty and wet because of the rain, a red triangle on the forhead. For the actual moment, he doesn't know how to feel about this guy. More like fighting him and trying to win the upper hand, though he has no weapons at all, or more like curiously running his hands over the surface of the mask and trying to look even closer into the blue eyes. He feels the energy radiating from the other. It feels like electricity, causing the tiny hairs on his arms to stand. The big guy sure resembles to him. Time seems to stand still until he notices a warm fluid running down his right arm. The machete maybe hit the ground, but it also reached him leaving a nice, long, bleeding cut into his biceps. Moving away, he can feel the gap inside the muscle, blood draining the sleeve of his overall.

Jason too can see every detail of Michaels almost black eyes. He noticed the blade had cut through the soft tissue of flesh before it had hit the ground, but like the guy in front of him, he freezes for a blink of an eye, drinking in the close sight.

He scans the surface of the guys mask, the nice details, nose, lips, cheekbones, looking smooth like porcellan. He wonders if the face under the mask looks the same. The eyes seem black, but they aren't. It's hard to notice with the little of moonlight dimly enlightening the forest, but they are a shade of very dark brown. A very dark and beautiful brown, deep as the halls of hell. Eyes worth to rip out, put in a glas and proudly display them on a shelf. The smell of the fresh blood runs into his nose, already dripping on the ground, forming a nice, deep red puddle. It causes an itch deep inside him, no matter what, he has to kill the guy, slashing him long enough to get covered in that sweet smelling blood.

The moment Michael moves away from him, his bigger body follows immediately, grabbing the soft throat with a firm and surprisingly fast hand. Not able to shift, the next moment Michael lays flat on his back in the mudd, pinned down by the weight and force of Jasons body. The second the cold hand grabs him, the energy of the other starts prickeling on his skin. Running up and down on his neck, slowly spreading through his whole body. It feels so familar, yet so different. Squirming and kicking as strong as he can, the hand on his throat squeezes tighter, one knee pressing down on his chest. No chance to take a straight breath, no matter how hard he punches, Jason seems to be made out of stone. Well, maybe he is, his skin at least is gray like some kind of stone…

Jason sure can feel Michaels energy too. It's wandering up into his arm, spreading over his chest and back. He doesn't suspected it to feel kind of alluring. Like trying to interact with his, no sign of any danger in it.

Brown meets blue and a muffled scream escapes. While Michael feels the blade of the machete slowly pushing into his body, opening it up and cutting his guts, Jason never breaks eyecontact. Rude as he is, he stares him right in the face. The muffled screams and whimpers of pain are sounding so beautifully, the smell of blood gets much more intense, under his firm grip he can feel the racing pulse and in Michaels eyes he can see a pretty mix of suffer and rage. No fear, not a single bit. It's nice to watch how the injured body answeres to his blade with squirms and shivers. Giving a line of throaty grunts, he starts to enjoy all the reactions the men under him gives.

Michael can feel the huge ammount of blood spilling out of his stomache, making bubbling noises. It's warm and slowly flows under him. He notices his hands grabbed the fabric of the dirty and ripped jacket. Under it the muscles of strong shoulders are twitching. He suspected the guy to be strong, but pinning him down like he was some kind of weak child? No, it surprised him. Staring right back into the observing blue eyes, feeling his head getting dizzy, he can hear the satisfied sounding grunts.

 _Is he able to entirely kill me_?, he wonders while his strength leaves his arms and his vision gets blurry.

If he just would have a knife, he would happily return the favor of an opened up stomach. Pulling all of the organs out of it, one by one.

The blade never stops to move inside of him and he can feel it teasingly cutting his organs, causing more blood to flow. The big hand on his throat squeezes so strong, fingernails are digging into his skin. The thump of it lazily stroking. The heck?! But the sounds Jason and the blade are making are getting quieter and he can't keep on wondering. He feels his arms and hands fall down to the ground, though his whole body is getting numb. Remembering the numerous times he died before, he only listends to the sound of the still falling rain. It drums on the leaves of the treetops, getting more and more distant. Feeling the spark of live leaving his body, though he had felt it so often, always is intense and exciting again.

Close to loose his conciousness, suddenly something solid starts to form in his opened palms. Slowly wrapping his fingers around something that feels like the handle of a knife, he's not sure if it's real or his diying brain is making something up. His grip tightens, yes, at least it feels real.

„Come on, Michael…Get him…“, someone whispers inside his head.

The voice sends a chill through his body. None of the usual voices, someone or something new, but his brain is getting too slow to concentrate on it. Still not sure if it's real or not, his hazy eyes fly open again and with the affort of the last bit of control over his body, his arms rise up and fisted hands smack down. When they again fall limply to the ground, two knifes are sticking pridely out of Jasons flanks.

 _He dies so beautifully_., Jason thinks, while he watches the men under him loosing his conciousness.

The way his dark eyes slowly falling shut, the choking noises he makes, the pulse under his palm slowing down, Jason adores every second of it. The warm blood, still streaming out of the large cut not only drains the dark blue overall and the ground around them, it also floats over Jasons right hand and soaks in into the fabric of his pants. One knee still heavy on Michaels chest, the other on the ground in the impressingly growing puddle of blood. It feels amazing, rich, pure. Caught in facination, he notices the shaking arms rising, but he misses the knifes.

A rumbling groan rolls through the silence of the forest, when the sharp pain hits his sides. Jumping up, slowly understanding what happened, he tries to grab one of the knifes to pull it out. Blood is rinning down his ripcage on both sides, but it's not as fresh and sweet as the others. It's dark, almost black, thick, wearing a slight smell of stale water. The knifes position is hard to reach and he struggles to get a grip of it, spinning around, grunting out his growing rage.

Feeling the weight of the big body lifting up from his chest, Michael heavily rolls over to his side. Coughting and poorly trying to breath, he doesn't pays much attention to Jason and his afforts of getting rid of the knifes. His fists are clenchning in the dirt, the damp air aggravates the task of learning how to breath again. Getting onto his hands and knees, it feels like his insides are going to spill out of the cuts. How fucking deep did that shithead cut him?! On instinct, though his guts literally are just about to drop out of him, he starts to slowly crawl away from Jason. Still fighting for air, blood begins to splash out by every cought. The metllica taste in his mouth is disgusting! Like sucking on some kind of pole.

In the corner of his eye, Jason notices his prey began to slowly crawl away. He managed to pull out one of the knifes, the other still sticking nicely into his flesh.

 _Nice try_., he growls in his head while throwing away the knife and stomping forward.

Michael can feel the vibrations of the heavy footsteps, but his body is too weak to flee. He can't get up, nore is he able to breath probertly. No matter what he would try, he won't escape.

A heavy boot hits the middel of his back, smacking him down face first onto the wet ground. The little of air, he managed to suck into his lungs, is pressed out of him to the last bit. When he feels the impact of the machete between his shoulderblades, cutting through his body, crashing some of his bones on it's way, coming out of his chest on the other side, he wonders again if it's possible to really be killed by this guy.

\------------------

It's like always. Dark, quiet, empty. Everytime his body dies, his mind takes a trip to some kind of waiting room. But instead of chairs and piles of years old magazines, there's nothing. No annoyingly screaming children, no way too loud conversations, no idiot fallen asleep and snoring like a grizzly, nothing. It feels so vague. He can make up thoughts, but they don't feel like being in his head, no, it feels like he is the thought. Should anyone ever ask him how it feels to die, he would have trouble to discribe it. The physical pain stops immediately when the mind leaves the body, but feeling like some kind of invisible, untouchable and unsensable cloud of thoughts in the middel of nothing is much worse in his opinion.

After waiting in nothingness, being absolutly not conscious about time, space and whatever else, he usually wakes up back in his body. Completely healed or, if the injuries are really bad, at least eighty percent healed. But he would wake up, no matter how often he dies.

Slowly opening his eyes, feeling his mind hesitantly setteling into his body again, the first thought that crosses through his brain is: _No he can't_ …

Sure, why should he get the pleassure of sweet death? No, oh no, somebody in some far away universe enjoys it very much to watch him reincarnate over and over again longing for rest, he's sure!

„Welcome to the Michael Myers reality tv show! Now with daily deaths!“

Inprezise and very slowly his body begins to send signals to his mind. Warm, it's warm and dry. It feels strangely cozy, his skin in touch with something very soft. The smell of the forest ist still there, but less intense. Instead the smell of wood and moulder is present. Getting his eyes to work more or less, the first thing he can see is a ceiling with dancing shadows above him. Letting his gaze wander, everything is almost dark, but he's in a room for sure. He only can make out shadowy silouettes of what seems to be furniture. The only small sorce of light a little candle with a happily flickering flame on the nightstand next to him. Feeling his stomache sink, he can't help but let out a weak groan. Room, furniture, candle, nightstand...Where, by all demons of hell, is he just now?!


	3. Magical mud and mystic dirt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our big boys all civilizied and fluffy! x3
> 
>  
> 
> So, it appears that I really am able to post a chapter every few days! How the hell is this possible? But lets be thankful, whatever spell is making me write in a toloratable rate :P

He isn't dead.

  
According to his injuries he should be dead, but he isn't. And Jason didn't suspected him to be. Despite the common opinion, he was dump and slow, his logical thinking works just fine! God, only because his head has a few bumbs, everybody thinks he's some kind of a hillbilly dump as shit. He went to school, at least until he was killed, is able to write and read and to understand logical connections!

  
Feeling that kind of energy touching him and interacting with his own, it would have been a huge surprise if that guy was mortal. Rain still falls and he, while carriyng the limp body in his arms, wonders how long it will continue.

  
There's no heartbeat or pulse to feel, no breathing to hear, no single tiny movement, but he's alive. The body may be dead, but the burning of his aura still is strong. It already covers his own whole body, creeping steadily inside to reach out for something deeper within. He's not sure why he bothers to carry the very beautifully opened up man all the way back to the camp. It would have been way easier to leave him behind in the forest. Maybe it's because he feels so familar, maybe because he seems to be the same kind as himself. Or maybe because he felt that strange adoration while he killed him?

\--------------

  
Still trying to completely come around, Michael managed to figure out some facts. He's inside, he lays in a bed tucked in firmly, his injuries have been covered in some weird kind of mud, at least it felt like dried mud, when he ran his fingertips carefully over it. He also noticed his boots were removed from his feet and neatly placed on the floor at the side of the bed. When his hands dashed up to his face in a slight forming panic, the relieve was great that the mask was still in place. Not that he would've been unbelivable ugly or something, no he thought he actually looked more than toleratable good, but he doesn't likes to show his face. For what? They called him the boogeyman, to satisfy them he should at least look like it. Feeling his head spin like a carousel full of screaming children, he tries to get up in a sitting position. No, he's not healed compeletly this time, not even anywhere near to healed. Groaning, placing one hand on the biggest cut on his stomache, he straightens his back up as much as possible. Fuck, it hurts! As if the blade was still inside, continuing to cut him with great pleassure.

  
Huffing and struggeling he manages to get into a, at least, half sitting, half laying position on the bed. One hand still pressed to the wound, leaning on the other elbow, his gaze shifts to the nightstand with the flickering candle. It's light lets shadows dance on every surface. Something glitters under the touch of the warm light, two somethings. Taking a closer look with narrowed eyes, leaning torwards it as much as he dares, he recognizes the shape. Knifes, just as the ones he always preferred. Nicely shaped with a broad blade at the base, getting pointier to the tip. For anybody else it would be only an ordinary kitchen knife, but for him, it meant much more.

  
Trying to reach out far enough to slightly touch the silvery blades, he remembers how they appeared out of nowhere the night before. But how?! First he wakes up in that strange forest, not knowing how he ended up there, second an obvisously raging and rotting giant of a men chases him through the woods and while trying to escape, he passes some fucked up kind of wormhole, third the guy tortures him with delight and kills him, fourth knifes are forming in his hands out of nowhere like some kind of magic trick for birthday parties and the strange voice inside his head, telling him to get the guy. No, oh no. He's used to some twisted and fucked up shit, but that? That's too much even for him.

  
His whole body tenses when he suddenly hears some heavy footsteps coming closer. Every step echoes through the air and the wooden floor creaks in pain under it. His head turns from the right to left, back and again, argh his neck feels like it had been crushed. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what should he do??!

  
The noise comes closer and stops right in front of the door to the room he's in. Staring at it with eyes widened like seeing a ghost, frozen in shock, it slowly openes with a slightly screeching noice. Crap! He has no better idea than to drop his body fast and a little too hard back, flat on the matress again, pretending to be asleep. Hectically pulling the blanket back over him with fumbling hands in the last second.

His eyes firmly closed, he hears the footsteps entering the room. Coming closer to the bed joined by deep throaty breaths. It's him for sure. He remembers the way of breathing as like the guy suffers some kind of astma or bronchitis, the smell of rot and wet mould and the most intense, the unmistakable energie. The urge to open his eyes is almost unbearable. But he's not sure what to expact, so better pretending to be no harm. Harmless, soft sleeping little Michael, nothing else.

  
For a while the breathing stands still next to the bed. God, he can feel the guys eyes on him! Staring, watching, observing…What the fuck is wrong with him?! Take a picture and take it with you!

  
Trying to let is own breathing appear as flat and deep as possible, the urge to flash his eyes open and quickly move away from that burning gaze rises. It feels like some kind of lasers would shoot out of that piercing eyes at any second, burning several extra holes into his body. Creepy!

  
Untill the floor cracks and a cold hand pulls the blanket off of his upper body. Ooookay, nothing to worry about, maybe he's only curious? Said hand continiuse to shove the already half way opened overall aside, to carefully trace the lines of the cuts. The cooler air of the room reaches his bare skin. Shit, the creepy guy surely is curiouse! Hard, it's so hard not to move under the cold touch, cold as a corpse. Feeling some of his muscles jump he's afraid that the guy could notice he's awake. He doesn't. Something is placed on the nightstand, followed by strange squishy noises. What the hell is that?

  
Punches, choking, cutting, maybe kicks, thats what he suspects to happen. Maybe even continuing the little torture session they started a few hours ago.

  
The breathing is getting closer, it seems like the big guy is hovering above him and something wet and really soft touches his wounds. Carefully and very gentle it rubs away the dried crust of what ever. It feels nice, he's nervouse as fuck and aware of being attact any moment, but damn, it feels nice. The cool wetness reassures the burning skin at the outlines of the cuts. They have began to slightly close and heal, but still there are big areas of raw flesh. He can feel the different textures as the soft whipes are stroking over it. After that he surely should be nominated for an oscar! Playing the peacufully sleeping victim, while the bad guy fumbles with his icy cold hands all over his torso and belly, not shifting or twitching ones!

  
And then it happenes.

No oscar for Michael. As gentle as the clumsy guy is, rubbing over the worst cut, touching raw meat giving access to deeper areas, he sends a sharp pain over his nerves and a hiss escapes Michaels lips. The gentle hand immediately stops and freezes midair. Argh, shit! His eyes may be still shut and he lays there not moving a bit, but inside he's screaming. No use to continue with his little performance... Heat rises up in his whole body, an unpleasant sting at the back of his head and dryness covering his throat. Hesitantely and worried about what is going happen, he flatters his eyes open. He expects a lot of things. Getting choked again, stabbed, punched…or maybe the creepy, curious guy wants to shove his fingers inside the biggest cut?

But nothing like that happens. No, the big bulky guy slowly takes a step away from him, keeping his gaze fixed to his face.

  
Silence. Awful, akward, heavy silence. Just like somebody had said some really dump shit and nobody dares to say one more word about the topic. It would‘ve been easier if the guy would‘ve attaced him. Now, they are staring at each other since long, very long torturing minutes, not moving, nothing. What should he do? Try to get out of the bed as fast as possible, grab the knifes and run? Or grab the knifes and throw them at the strange dude? No…if he would‘ve wanted to fight, he wouldn't have treated his wounds gentlely like a kitten, would've never placed the knifes on the nightstand and shifted back when noticing he was awake. Maybe he should say something, though he isn't sure if the guy understands him and he hasn't said a single word for years. Who should he had talked to? The doctors? The empty shells walking around the corridors? The white walls around him? And what should he have said? No, he never felt the desire to talk to anybody of them. But now? That guy is different. Obviously relateable to him. Maybe he would understand.

  
More silent minutes of staring passed, till he found the courage to make a try. Clearing his throat, expecting his voice to sound terrible after so many years of absolut silence, he says the only thing he could come up with: „Hey.“

  
And yes, yes, his voice sounds horrible! Harsh, deep, unsteady like a rusted chainsaw. And „hey“?! It sounded like a good start in his head, but spoken? Awkward!

  
Jason seems to be surprised. His blue eyes widen, but remain on his guest. He himself hasn't spoken for many years eather. He remembers as a kid he was used to talk, but he never liked the sound of his voice or the way the words formed on his lips. It always sounded like he had difficulties to pronounce them correctly, though in his head they sounded right. His mouth just wouldn't do what his brain wanted. Feeling as uncertain like he was a child again, the only thing he gives in respons is a low grunt, trying to let it sound like a greeting.

  
Amazing. He pushes himself to press the first word since decades out of his lips and the only thing he gets in exchange is a grunt. How crude!

  
 _Calm, Michael, maybe he isn't used to conversation or he even can't speak at all…_ , he thinks.

  
Feeling a little helpless, he looks at the bowl of water placed on the nightstand. There also is a small tin can filled with what seems to be mud, dirt or what ever. Maybe the stuff his wounds were covered in? He's not sure if he really wants to know what it is, but though he tries. Looking back at Jason „What's that?“, he askes pointing out to the nightstand.

  
The next response isn't even a sound. Jason just tilts his head to the left, giving him a look like saying: „How could you not know what that is? Are you stupid?“ Hesitantly he takes a step forward, slowly reaching for the tin can and dipping his fingers in the grey-brown substance. Leaning closer over Michael, his fingertips traces one of the cuts, smearing the cool and slimey stuff all over it, while closely looking into the curious black eyes.

  
Seeing the tilt of the head and the look he gives him, Michael thinks about three options. First option: The big guy is a mute, second option: He doesn't wants to talk to him, third option: He tries to mess around with him. Whatever it is, he's not sure if he should get annoyed, impatient or sorry for the guy, but the tilt sure looks kind of cute. As the big frame approaches him, he tenses. Closely observing how the grey fingers dip into the tin can and reach out for him. He can't help but slighty shift away. He doesn't comes far. Behind him is the pillow, the bedframe, then the wall. Nice, trapped between a wodden wall and a mute, butcher-like giant.

  
Jason obviously ignores his attempt to avoid the touch and just continues what he's doing. As if it was an every day thing to stroke another guys chest. The moment the, with that strange stuff covered fingers touch his skin, he can't deny that it feels good. So good. He hears some low and aproving sounding humms and can't help it but to close his eyes and exhale a deep breath after one more uncertain moment. The response to it is a mix of a grunt and a chuckle, sounding like a bear that has been told a joke.

  
Remembering who is touching him and the fact that he really shouldn't feel too comftable about it, he opens his eyes again. Looking at Jason from close, it's impressing how concentrated the guy seems at his task. The almost ridiciously rich blue eyes are glued to his wounds, every single touch featherlight and careful as if handeling a raw egg. Is there any higher reason why he enjoys this so much?!

  
„It feels good,“ six words spoken and slowly his voice gets softer, „does it increase the healing process?“.

  
Nodding the blue eyes turn to look into his. He can't see it, but it seems like Jason is smiling under his mask. His eyes are shining as like he does.  
It's obviously, but he asks anyway and to be fair, he's out of training to do a propper conversation. Specially with a partner as mute as this guy.

  
„Did you bring me here?“

  
Another nod.

  
„Why?“

  
Straightening up, the answer to that question is a limply shrug of the broad shoulders after a while what seemed like intense thinking. The smile seems to fade and the blue eyes turn to look at the wodden floor. Suddenly the big guy seems uncertain and nervouse. Though he's tall, broad, a figure that says „don't mess with me“, now he almost looks like a first grader who is forced to do a presentation in front of the whole class.

  
Pushing his body up onto his arms, struggeling a little, Michael tries to sit up more straight. Laying his hands into his lap softly covered by the blanket, he quietly breaths out: „Thank you.“ …. „For bringing me here and treatening my injuries.“, he adds after a short pause.

  
Looking at Jason he sees him nod again. Ok, so maybe they should start with something even easier. Clearing his throat again, the dryness really is annoying, squaring his shoulders, he introduces himself: „My name is Michael. Michael Myers.“

  
Looking up into the mask covered face, nothing indicates that the guy has ever heard of him. Still all focused to the patterns on the wodden floor. It's kind of relieving. All the stupid rumours, crudely imagined lies and twisted facts of his past and of course the truth, nothing of it matters here. No one knows? No one cares, right?

Silence stretches again and Jason doesn't makes any attempt to introduce himself on avoluntary base.

  
„And you are?“, he tries to push him slightly with big, questioning puppy eyes, raised brows, though Jason can't see it and a slightly pitched sing-sang voice.

  
Taking one look into the pleading, shining eyes and the big guy immediately turns his gaze back to the floor. Starting to shift unconfortably and clenching his hands into fists, he fights with himself if he should speak or not. One voice in his head says: „You can't speak! You haven't done it for so long, you sure not even able to after all that time! And anyhow, your voice always sounded akward, he will laugh at you!“, the other conters with: „He's the same as you! Who the hell should you talk to when not him? It's a one time chance only to getting to know someone just like you!“. It's like in some old cartoon. Angel and devil sitting on his shoulders, fighting about what to do. And fuck, the fuzzy haired guy is still questioningly staring at him with that big, round eyes he could spend hours with looking into. He feels heat rise up into his cheeks and is more than happy with wearing the mask, starting to pick around on the fabric of his pants, he coughts, trying to clear his throat a little.

  
After what seems like forever, quietly, almost too quiet to hear, uncertainly tones leaving his lips: „J-Jason… Voor-Voorhees…“.

  
His eyes are staying glued to the floor, his cheeks are burning and his fingers keep on playing with the fabric. Fuck, he sounds like back then, as if he were some kind of idiot not sure what he's talking about. Why was it so hard to let his voice sound like it sounded in his head??!

  
So, Jason Voorhees it is. If he understood it right. He's not sure about the last name, cause it seemed that the big guy had some trouble to pronounce it himself. Is it a dutch name? His words sounded foul, a little mumbled like speaking with a mouth full of food, the sound of his voice a kind of growl. A little smirk plays along Michaels lips, secretely hidden under his mask. In some strange way, the uncertain and strangely muffeled voice actually sounded kind of adorable. You wouldn't someone with this look expect to sound like this! But it's not as unconfortable as he feared it to be. It's rusted like his, judging by that and that it took forever to only spit out his name, Michael comes to guess that the guy maybe hasn't talked for a long time eather. But it also is deep and vibrates nicely.

  
Wait, what?! Nice voice? Cute, when tilting his head, adorable? What the fuck is wrong with him?! It's the strange situation he's in, it must be. Causing his brain to produce unlogical thoughts!

  
Trying to distract himself, he starts to babble something, he should have thought through before, while shifting his gaze to his hands resting in his lap.  
„Is it possible that you are a little s-….“  
Before he can complete his unfortain sentence, a rumble like thunder interrupts him.

  
„I'm not slow or dump!!“, Jasons voice roars furiousely , his eyes darting at him like throwing knifes, hands fistet again and stiffly clenched to his sides.

  
Immediately rising up his hands in defence and looking at the frightening big guy with great widened eyes, Michael begins to stutter: „Ah…eh, no…No you aren't! I wanted to say…ehm…Special! Excactly, if you are a little special!“.  
He feels immens heat rising up from his stomach to his head, face and ears. His features are glowing, he's sure about that. Giving Jason an apologetic and kind of frightened look under his mask, combinated with a stupid half smile, he really is surprised how fluid and fast the words were thrown at him. Voice roaring and grumbeling like some kind of demon straight out of hell. Ripping and vibrating, carried by the air between them, through his whole body. Letting him jump a little at the unexpected volume and causing him to feel a shiver slightly run down his spine.

  
„Ma' always said… I-I was special.“, Jason tells him way quieter again, rudely grabbing a chair from the corner of the room, placing it opposide the bed and letting his body heavily fall down on it. Still not looking at Michael.

  
Thanks hell he's not about to freak out. Michael lets his hands fall back into his lap, exhaling a relieved sigh only a little to loud as he wanted it to be. Some part of him doesn't wonders, that Jason mentioned his mother. Lifing like that, obviously different from all others, sure wasn't easy. Humans are so superficial! But yeah sure, they’re the monsters. Rolling his eyes over his own thought, he smiles: „You sure are.“.

  
Soft, Michaels voice is so soft. No sign of judgement, no hint of disgust, no tiny bit of aversion. Honest, it's honest and soothing. Like his mother's has always been to him. Looking up in that unbelievable deep, dark eyes, he presses out: „ You…you seem t-to be sp-special too…“.

  
Well, that's something Michael hasn't see coming.

  
„Err…uumm…“, he mutters, searching through his whole vocabolary. If it were possible, smoke would rise up from his head.

  
„I-I mean...you're l-like me…in…some way. … Alike…I felt…felt it in your energy, your …aura.“, Jasons gives his best to explain and obviously is using a great ammount of concentration to speak understandable.

  
Watching him trying so hard, it melts something in Michaels chest. The way he tries, but still sounds so uncertain and shy. Fuck, he really is cute in some twisted and freaked way. Or Michael just welcomes the way he acts with him. No fear, no suspicion of danger, like talking to someone ordinary, an every day person. He would never, never ever admit it, but during the years it would have been nice to have only one person he could talk to. Share his thoughts, emotions, dark and frightening things. Things every normal person wouldn't want to hear about. He feels a big smile stretching his lips. Fortunatly he wears his mask, he must look so stupid right now! Did he even smiled ones in the last years? No, he can't remember even one time.

  
While he thinks about an answer, Jason takes the opportunity of silence to move closer and continiue to treat the slightly healed cuts with his mystic kind of dirt. Very careful as if Michael was made out of glas, he makes sure to cover every wound with a thick layer of it. The night before he teared that body happily apart, now acting with it like it was something very fragile and precious. It's strange how warm the pale skin feels to his own cold skin, but it feels nice...alive. Not to talk about the prickeling energy tickeling his fingertips even through the layer of mud. Taking a glance up to Michaels face, he sees his eyes closed again. Breathing slow and quietly, like enjoying the treatment. A little smile plays on his lips under his mask, stretching the area where a piece of his upper lip misses, displaying his teeth. Yap, he's satisfied with what he's doing. If Michael would call him a good boy right now, he deffinitely would lose his shit.

  
When he's finished and whipes his fingers over his pants, smearing the rest of the slime on it, Michael slowly openes his eyes again. It's true, he enjoyed the treatment, the cooling effect of the strange stuff on the cuts, the tingeling it causes and to be honest, the low constant humming, the almost painly gentle touches and the curiously radiating energy of Jason trying to trigger his.  
„What excactly is it?“, he tries again, convinced that this time he will get an answer. Damn, again a stupid smile is showing under the mask also slightly audiable in his voice. But his head feels so light already and a warm, fluffy feeling is spreading in his guts. It's the situation, for sure.

  
Getting the overall thoroughtly back in place, Jason really gives an answer: „It's mud f-from the… lake outs-outside. It ha-has …healing effects.“.

  
„Oh.“, thats all what comes out of Michaels mouth.  
Healing mud? But under circumstances like this, with knifes suddenly forming out of thin air, wormholes and tucked into bed by a guy who had tried to kill him just hours earlier, who is he to doubt the magic power of mud from a lake? No, it's ok, for times like this, it's totally ok.

  
Standing up and grabbing the bowl of water and the tin can, Jason speaks again: It's sp-special, you know…the lake.“.

  
Michael watches Jason fetch the things from the nightstand. Standing in front of him looking like some kind of waiter, with the bowl in the left and the tin can in the right hand.  
„What's so special about it?“, he asks, expecting a story about fairies and wizards, princesses to be rescued and villians to get their asses kicked. Sounds weird? Yes, but the whole situation is weird!

  
Slowly heading for the door, Jason answeres with his back turned towards Michael: „I…drowned in it.“. His voice sounding even deeper as before and filled with a steady kind of seriouseness.

  
And while Michael looks at him with big, round eyes and asks himself if he really heared him say that he drowened in the lake, Jason adds: „You sho-should rest…a…a little more.“.  
The door closes gently behind the broad back and leaves the room in absolut silence. Without Jason the room seems much bigger, emptier. Only the flickering of the almost burned down candle is slightly to be heard. Michael, still trying to figure out what he was told, sits still, staring at the closed door. Realesing a great sigh and dramatically rolling his eyes, he drops down again. Reaching out to his mask, he rups the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. So, the strange guy, who feels awkwardly nice when touching him, with the voice of an innocent little boy but much lower, drowened in that mysterious lake outside with it's magical mud? Great! Nothing out of order here! Nothing to wonder about.

 

 


	4. Dr. med. Jason Voorhees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahoi!  
> Thanks for reading this far :D :*

The following few days, Michael takes things slow. It's not like he would've appointments or such. After leaving the bed on the second day, still he seems to heal way slower than usual, he starts walking around in the cabin. There's not much to see though. On the main floor is a wide living area with couches and a fireplace, in the back a kitchen with a big table and several chairs. The second floor holds a long corridor with five doors on each side. Every door leads to a bedroom with two beds, a small table, two nightstands and two chairs. Nothing extravagant, but the prince can deal with it. For now.

  
The whole place seems to be abonded for decades. Thick layers of dust can be found, broken windows here and there allowing rain to fall onto the wodden floors and walls, letting it rot. Indeed the whole cabin seems to be already soaked, peacfully rotting without any attempts to fix it. Dead leaves are forming piles in some corners, getting swirled around by the incoming wind every now and then. He could swear some times he can hear something that sounds like mice or rats running around and scratching behind the walls. Nasty, but if they stay there everything will be fine. Main thing is they don't try to eat him while he's asleep. He would totally freak out for sure, giving high pitched screames like some hysterical chick.

  
But no matter how wracked this place is, it's still better than to be locked up at the sanatorium. Everything, hell even the dead leaves, are so much more colorful considered to his white prision. If the goal of all white was to drive the patient/prsioners even more insane, it worked damn fine. He has to admit, he feels calmed and stable here. Rage? Anger? The urge to rip somebodys eyes out, shove them into their throat and use brutal force to swallow them? No, not even a hint of it.

  
During the days, Jason told him a little about his story. How he ended up the way he is. The guy sure was no blabber mouth, only rarely talking, but when he did it was interesting. Like how he lived as a child getting mocked because of his handicap, the incident of drowning in the lake at the age of eleven, how his mother got all furious and decided to go on a killing spree at the camp, getting killed herself at the end. Everything after that is cryptic as fuck and he guesses Jason himself doesn't understands it completely. Coming back from the dead, being this freaked kind of zombie killer, chained to the camp to immediately slaughter everyone who dares to set a foot on it's grounds. Who would fully understand something like this?

  
So that's why he attacked him in the first place. Enjoying it so much and playing around with him like a cat with a mouse before finally killing it, still is a mystery the big guy slips no word about. But he doesn't has to. They all got their dirty little secrets, aren't they? Things so twisted and oh so wrong, better should remain unspoken.

  
What amuses Michael on a decent level is that Jason obviously practiced talking secretely. Every coming day his speaking got a little better. The mumbled sound and the deep groawling still remains, but the stuttering and slowness is gone. All words are more fluid and better pronounced than before. Imaging Jason doing speaking lessons really is something. A few times he wasn't able to hold back a light chuckle, gaining a confused gaze from the big guy. But hey! Putting so much affort into speaking propper only to talk to him? That's just cute!

  
Yes, cute. Unable to shut down thoughts like that, he decides to pretend their not there.

  
Michael in return told him a little bit about his own story. Not too much, because that's nothing he highly enjoys to talk about. Telling him he comes from Haddonfield, Illinois, being a strange little fuck as long as he can remember, losing his sanity and killing his whole family expect Laurie and getting locked up in a sanatorium is enough. Not mentioning his funny, little trips back to Haddonfield to continue with murdering several people, not willing to stop until he ereased that bloodline from the face of earth and that he isn't able to die no matter what he's doing. Anyways the last one should be more than obviously.

  
Except from treatening his wounds on a regularly base, taking that task really seriouse and giving him dacedes old food in tin cans to eat, oh they really fit the charm of the cabin, Jason roams the grounds of the camp at least three times a day. Maybe he's a little paranoid, but better being paranoid than clueless. When he does his guard, Michael is left behind with plenty of time to think, overthink and fantasize about everything that pops up in his mind. His thoughts reach from „Laurie and her offspring are still alive, that's not toleratable“ to „Are they wondering where I‘ve dissapeared to?“ to things like „Maybe I should cut my hair.“. Like said, he has plenty of time.

  
One of his favorite things to fantasize about became how it would've been if Jason and him would've met as kids. Maybe they would've become friends. He always was a mean little devil, but he sure wouldn't have mocked Jason for what he was. No, he knows first hand how that feels. Imaging little Jason wearing a school uniform, carrying a backpack, all shy and insecure, he just has to grin wide about that picture. Maybe under the influence of his bad company, Jason would've become more self secure. And hell yeah, he sure would've been a bad, very, very bad influence to mommas sweet little boy. Teaching him how to be nasty, playing mean little pranks, using his fists propertely and being a constant pain in the ass for everyone around. Being drunk with him for the first time, doing really stupid, but funny things like shoplifting or destroying others proberty or playing pyromane. That would've been amazing! Nobody would've been save from them! Everytime he thinks about it, eyes shut and letting it show up to his inner eye, he smiles wide and sighs pitifully. Would've been…

  
Despites beeing a maniac and pulling Jason with him into the depth of hell, maybe it would've been good for him too to have a little, innocent friend. Someone who listends to him without judging. Someone where he could've been himself without worrys. Someone who would've been the voice of reason, stopping him from getting way too mad. Someone giving him company. Jason would've been perfect for the job with his pure nature and abillity to take tasks dead seriouse. Maybe things would've turned out different.

Thinking about it, his smile fades and his eyes open hazyly staring into nothing, while he feels his chest clench unconfortably. He feels the numb embrace of lonelyness again, the almost unbearable feeling of coldness spreading from the inside, the anger and ugly jealousy. Well known emotions. Pulling his knees up to his chin, tightening his arms around his legs, he transforms into a huddled ball. Sitting in a chair in front of the big glas door at the living area, leading to a terrace, he stares outside, but his eyes don't see anything but emptyness.

  
When Jason returns, banging the front door shut as raw as he is, Michael doesn't even notices him. He still sits in the chair, still hugging himself and caught up in dark thoughts. It feels like he is glued in place. A need to stand up? Nope.

  
Crossing the living area with loud steps, he really could need some grace, Jason almost misses Michael sitting there. Almost. He doesn't have to see him, thanks to their harmonizing energies, he feels him. And he feels…sad?  
„Are you alright?“, he asks low and quietely while slowly moving closer from behind.

  
Twitching and almost jumping out of the chair, feeling like his heart is about to jump out of his chest, Michael turns around with highspeed. Thanks hell it's Jason. He would've been an easy target, all drowened in his thoughts. He should fix that.  
Reliefed turning back to the glas door again, he mumbles under his breath: „Yeah, it's nothing.“.

  
„You know I can feel you, right?“

  
Crap, right! Argh, back then he was a murderouse, unreadable maniac, now it seems like Jason can read his mind as easyly as the newspaper.  
„I know, but it's nothing. Really.“, turning around, waving in the direction the voice came from, now he jumps for real.  
Clumsy, this guy is always so clumsy and raw, but now he managed to sneak close behind him without making the tiniest noise like a ninja assasin! How can that be?!

  
Completely ignoring Michaels reaction, Jason lays one cold hand gently down on a stirred up shoulder. Immediately the trade of energie starts. It's always like their auras are only waiting for them to touch. He can sense the heavy feeling of lonelyness radiating from the pale guy and it let's his heart sink. He can't explain it, but since the night he almost killed Michael and enjoyed the sweet torture the little devil took so beautifully, he truly cares about him, likes him, feels like he has to try his best to make him feel better, no matter what. And that's what he does, cause actually he's quiet a good boy. Parting from Michael he heads towards the fire place, without saying a single word. While the gaze of the black eyes follows him, he enlightens a small fire, fetches a blanket from one of the couches and after beating the dust out of it, he gestures for Michael to come over.

  
Sitting on his hands and heels in the chair, tilting his head slightly from side to side, the smaller killer looks like a big cat. A big and sad, but majestic cat. Maybe a little fuzzy. While the blue eyes are softly looking at him, one arm stretched out to invite him over, hesitantely the big cat climps down from the chair. With cautious and very small footsteps he's slowly getting closer. It's like trying to feed a wild animal. You have to be patient, while the animal is considering if it should fetch the treat or not. On contrary to a wild animal, Michael doesn't fetches the treat and immediately dashes away again. Finally arrived at the fireplace, the elegant and smooth body joins Jason on the wodden floor in front of it. Sitting down with grace like some kind of royal. Jason really is impressed how Michael uses to move. In the last days he watched him in awe. All light and elegant, fluid movements even though his injuries, he can only dream of! No matter what he would try, he will always remain the king of clumsyness. If it were an olympic diciplin, he would easily win gold.

  
Sitting there with crossed legs and picking on his fingernails, Michael suddenly is very interested in the dancing shadows on the floor. God, Jason is looking at him with that innocent blue angel eyes, expecting him to spit out what's up and he can't bring himself to even glimpse up to him. A soft layer is drapped around him. Thanks Jason, covering him with a blanket sure makes everthing even worse! He's not used to it. Not used to kindness, somebody caring and comforting him. It is strange, so strange and he has no idea how to act. Just talking about his emotions, letting everything burst out of him like a rushing waterfall? Yeah, sure, nice joke! He never did something like this. And why? Caurse nobody cared! Till now…now Jason cares.

  
In order to not offend the big guy and because he seemingly really cares about him, he pushes a sentence out, giving much affort not to bite into his tounge: „I….I only remembered some aspects of my childhood.“. And wow, he hasn't known his whole face and his ears could feel so hot!

  
Slightly nodding his head, Jason gives him an understanding look, though he only sees it in the corner of his eye. Looking at him would be far too emberassing. Humming deeply, he indicates him to continue. Welcome to your session with Dr. med. Voorhees, please take a seat!

  
„Ah fuck, you know just fine how it is. Beeing the strange kid.“, sighing heavily and throwing his hands up in the air, Michael continues after a while.  
„I just felt…lonely. Asking myself why I was so wrong, so different, only wishing for a friend or buddy or whatever.“  
To his great surprise his face and ears can feel even hotter. Emberessing, it is so emberessing to reveal his crippeld emotions to another individum. Feeling vulnerable like this sure isn't his thing. How the hell can one do this once a week and even pay for it?! Informations like this could easily be used as weapons. Hurting, torturing, killing the unfortunate one who said too much.

  
But Jason isn't that kind of guy, because like Michael knew, he just knows fine how it is, how it feels and how it influences one. Moving a little bit closer, not commenting anything, he lets their shoulders slightly touch. Like mentioned earlier his logical thinking works just fine. So, if he can feel Michaels lonelyness and sadness through his energy, Michael in return should feel the tries of comforting and soothing carried by his energy. Logic. Except there are some illogical rules for the trade of energy he doesn't knows about.

  
It seems there aren't. After an uncertain moment, the fuzzy haired slasher leans in to him. He can't see the look in his face, but the way Michael breathes and his hands are clenching are tale telling. Carefully and insecure about what he's doing, he slides his arm around the smooth body. Gently pulling Michael closer, at least as close as he dares. What is acceptable, what not? Crap, he is clueless…  
But it seems his actions are acceptable. Spending some moments in total silence, they only communicate through their new and still mostly unknown connection. And to be honest, it doesn't needs more. It's like a language they're supposed to speak, but forgotten it long ago.

  
A sad chuckle ends the silence: „Hell, what are we even doing here?“.  
Feeling Michaels head lift from his shoulder, Jason searches for the black eyes. Catching them he can still see the unbeatable sadness in them, but there also is something else now. While sometimes he has slight problems to interpret what Michael actually means or tries to express, he has some trouble with understanding sarcasm the smaller one uses a lot, his eyes are like giant billboards to him.

  
„Sharing.“, Jason tells him gently. Tightening his grip around Michael, cause he sure isn't about to let go just yet and regarding to what the black, deep orbs told him Michael doesn't wants to as well.

  
Bullseye!

  
After giving him a look like asking what the heck he's talking about, Michaels gaze softens and he returnes into the silent embrace. Pressing his masked face to the cold chest, one arm sneakes around Jasons middle. Screw it! When his weak side is already gaining the upper hand, then at least in front of or better plastered to Jason.

  
He allows himself to seak comfort in the bear hug like embrace for a few hours. No talking, only feeling. Damn, when Jason grabs you, he's not about to let go so soon. But and he hates to admit it with every single cell in his body, he never had felt so save before. Or so secure…or cared for…or so amazingly calmed by another dudes closeness…What ever happens, Jason will never ever become aware of it! **NEVER**!

  
When they managed to part from each other, night has fallen over the camp. Instead of doing his nightshift guardiance, Jason takes care of Michaels wounds and tuckes him in firmly. So firmly it appears that he thinks the slightly smaller male needs a tight cocoon made out of blankets to survive the night. During the procedure Michaels snappy and bitchy self returns, telling him he was no fucking little child that needed to be brought to bed. Though he tries to wiggle out of the cocoon, producing all kinds of annoyed noices, in secrete he appreciates Jasons caring nature a lot. And not that his attempts helped a bit. Tucked in bed by Jason, you stay tucked till morning comes. Giving himself a silent chuckle after he was left alone, he thinks about that at least he kept his pants on. The last coherent thought before sleep catches him and his mind goes comfortably quiet.

\-------------------

  
It's still dark when his eyes blink open again. He heared something, someone. Trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness, and getting at least a little bit more awake, he remembers someone calling his name, but it sounded fare away. Maybe he dreamed. Did it got even darker as the nights already were at the abonded camp without any electricity or are his eyes too tired to focus? Rubbing both with the heels of his palms, he swings his legs out of the bed as elegant as always. Not even close to be fully awake he suddenly hears it again.

  
„…Mickey…“

  
Yap, now he's wide awake! It wasn't a dream. His hands frozen mid air in front of his face, he feels a thrill going through his body. Who in the whole world would call him Mickey? Ok, either he's finally going completely insain now or somebody is shitting him. The floor is cold to his bare feet, when he stands up and after fetching the knifes from the nightstand, slowly prances to the door. Again:

  
„…Mickey…“

  
Feeling his hand trying to squeeze the life out of the poor doorknob, a chill runs up and down his spine. Christ, he's used to creepy shit, but something is making him anxious. Maybe the darkness, so dark that he barely can see the outlines of the furniture or the fact that it seems to be at least ten dagrees colder than usual. What ever is going on, his instincts are telling him that it's going to be no fun.

  
For a short moment he hesitates. Does he really wants to know who's calling him? Crap, yes, yes he wants. What do they say? Curiousity kills the cat? Well, thanks hell he can't die.

  
After he opened the door and made sure the corridor was save by sticking his head out on full speed and back again, he carefully heads to the stairs. Body lowered like a preditor on the hunt and of course moving with the same grace. The strange voice calls him three times more until he makes it to the main floor, wards all up. It sounds female, but with an unfitting touch of harshness, still distantly. Not even looking out for Jason, who uses to sleep at the main floor on one of the couches or on the floor, he doesn't notices that there's no hint to be found of Jason beeing there. No, the thick fog crowling in from under the frontdoor catches most of his attention. The night in the forest, there was fog flaoting over the ground like a thick blanket, but it never reached into the cabin before. Oh how something was greately wrong!

  
Heading outside, he's greated by a slightly spooky view. The fog thickly covers the ground, letting his feets disappear, the air is so damp that it's immediately twice as hard to fill his lungs with enough oxygen and the only thing illuminating the whole scene is the slight glowing of the lake. There is no moon, no stars, not even clouds when he lifts his head to look at the sky. It's only black, a blank, black roof like a dome over the camp. Standing there between the cabin and the glowing lake, he shifts his gaze all over the place, eavesdropping for every tiny noise. It's too quiet. Normally the noises of animals and the wind, playing with the leaves of the trees can be heared at night. Now, nothing. Not even an itsy bitsy tiny bit of movement of the heavy air. As if everything living was gone.

  
Of course he has to inspect the glowing lake nearer. With every step he takes, he can feel the pulsing of it becoming stronger. Under is feet the muddy ground gives squishy noises, is it supposed to be that soft? The lakes glow is a mixture of green and blue, but not quiet reaching anywhere near to turquoise. He remembers reading about humans were only abel to see about two hundred different shades of all colors and around fife hundred different levels of lightness, when in fact there were way more. But for sure, he had never seen such a color before. It lures him closer the longer he feeds his eyes on it's shine. The fog floating over the surface of the lake looking beautiful like colored clouds.

  
_Like cotton candy_ , he thinks, stopping just before his toes can make contact with the water.   
The urge to bend down and dip his fingers into the glowing water is huge, but he would rather bite them off his hand one by one. Nice try, but he isn't that stupid. The glowing, the pulsing, the alluring pull, it literally screams trap. While his gaze keeps fixed to the lake, he hears the voice again. This time a terribly sounding high pitched scream of his name.

  
And before he is able to notice it, he is running straight into the direction the scream came from. His legs moving fast on their own. Not knowing where he even heads to, he follows the shore of the lake before he takes a sharp turn into the thick standing trees. The same scream echoes again through the dead silent forest, but this time way closer. Taking a few more fast steps, leaving the glow of the lake behind it get's darker. But before he can leave the radius of the shine completely, his body appruptly stops and his brain has some great trouble to comprehend who he is seeing in front of him.


	5. "But you're not even wearing shoes..."

„Michael wait! You can't just go out there and hope they don't track you down!“

„Oh, I can! Let them try, I will show them what a stupid idea that would be!“

Stomping through the forest, crushing everything in his way like some kind of a very pissed tank, Michael doesn't even considers to listen to Jason. Following him and trying to sweet talk him out of his furious plan, the poor, clumsy guy struggles to keep up with the fast and cat-like moving, raging Michael. A pissed Michael is way faster than a terrified Michael, who knew?

Taking an uncertain jump forward, almost tripping over dead wood on the ground, Jason manages to grab the devils shoulder with one big and strong hand. Spinning him around as easily as like he was a small child, Jason puts both his hands firmly on the shaking shoulders, gripping them tightly. He's not sure if Michael is shaking because of his temper gotten lose from it's leash or if the shaking still is an after effect of the huge blow strucked through the smooth body. Maybe both of it.

„Listen to me! Calm down. Look, they will track you down and put you back in the sanatorium, maybe faster as you can even make it to Haddonfield.“, he argues rationally, hoping there's maybe a little bit of reason left in the chaos of rage and bloodlust. Who thought Jason would ever try to avoid someone from going out and slaughter some people?

Michael hears Jason, feels his firm hold and sees the blue eyes pleading him to listen, but somehow it doesn't makes the whole way into his racing mind.

„You don't get it,“ he starts, trying to wiggle out of the big hands „I have to go, have to end it, HAVE to vanish her and her progeny from the face of this planet!“

„Michael, I know how--", his sentence has no chance to ever get completed. The slander hands are dashing up and impact on his chest with surprisingly big force, pushing him back a few steps. Pissed Michael is obviously as well stronger than terrified Micheal. And louder.

„LET GO OF ME YOU STUPID RETARD AND MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS!!!!“

Jason never heared a voice sound like that. A mix of a roar sounding like an angry lion and someone possesed by a demon from hell. It ripples through the silent air and he can feel it vibrate even he's standing a few steps away from Micheal. Not to speak of the huge madness carried by it and almost touchable. What also ripples through Jasons saddening soul is the name he got called.

„Retard…“, he repeats quietely letting his head sink a bit, after the shock of the sudden outburst fades slowly. Standing there with lowered shoulders and his head hanging, he looks like a child that was refused ice cream.

Great Michael, well done! Rolling his eyes and letting his arms flap limply to his sides, Michael exhales an annoyed sigh. Walking over to close the gab between them. Cupping Jasons face between his slightly shaking hands, he breathes: „Come on, I don't mean it big buddy. You know my temper is like a powder keg“. Leaning down and bending is head in an unconfortable angle, he tries to catch the blue eyes behind the mask that still is positioned downwards. When he manages to make eyecontact his body is standing there in a way too unnatural position. Fortunatly they're alone and nobody can see him.

„I know you want to protect me and that's really cute of you and I appreciate it, but I have to go and you know that. Be a good boy and let me end this.“, the first time in who knows how long he's unhappy with wearing his mask. It hides the sweet and pleading smile he gives Jason, but it seems his equally sweet words are just as good. He must've said the codeword, caurse after the disappointed blue orbs found their way into his blackness, Jason slowly nods. „Good boy.“, Michael praises him slightly petting the sides of the mask between his hands.

\----------------

Earlier that night, Jason snatches awake by the sound of the frontdoor being opened and closed. Immediately shoving his body, still in resting mode, up to it's full height, he stumbles outside. Wondering what the hell is going on, he watches Michael first standing frozen doing nothing, then slowly approaching the lake. Each of his hands holds one of the knifes he suddenly used that first not to stab Jason. Pressing out a hesitant „Don't“ seeing him getting closer and closer to the water, he's relieved when he stops just before walking into the lake. Cautious Jason moves a little nearer, but keeps a savely distance the last incident with the lake not forgotten, watching the strange acting Michael observing the lake for several minutes. What the heck is he doing?

„Michael?“, he askes as calm as he manages to, but no response. Then without any further warning the weirdo tenses like a shocked chihuahua and gives a hell of a head start, running along the shore of the lake. Geesh, running it's always running.

\------------------

Feeling his legs giving in, Michael stumbles a few steps backwards. Is this real? Right in front of him, back pressed against a tree, arms stretched out grabbing the trunk, desperately screaming his name stands a women looking unconfortably the same like Laurie. No not only looking the same, but also sounding like her expect the strange harshness her voice contains.

For one moment everything around him including the trees, the ground and even the sky fades to black expect for the noisy Laurie. He feels his body straighten up again, not appearing that he is longer in control of it. He can't control it, there's no way of keeping it at bay. The spark of anger flickers alive and before anything else can happen his whole being stands in flames of dangerously raging madness. Jumping forward to the still screaming women, Michael raises the knifes he holds ready to stab her until she finally goes silent. Nice plan, but before he can reach her, someone grabs his hair and violentely drags him away, swinging and throwing him against a thick tree trunk. Ouch! Coughting and using the trunk as guidance to lift himself up again, shaking his head to shoo away the dizzyness of the hard impact, he turns his gaze into the direction he just came flying from. Who to all demons of hell dares to avoid him from fullfilling his duity??!

Recognizing the crude disturber he spats: „What are you doing?! Are you stupid?!“. He straightens up and staring at each other with the whimpering Laurie in the background, the disturber gives no response. Hell that's not going to be a dump staring contest! „Get out of my way Jason, she's my prey.“ Approaching the bulky figure, Michael doesn't gives a shit seeing him square his shoulders and getting his machete ready to strike. You want to dance? Ok, we‘ll dance buddy. In this state nothing scares him, he doesn't cares who's in front of him and no single bit of reasonable thinking is left.

Trying to use his more elegant movements to sneak his way past Jason ends with an arm around his neck, squeezing firmly. Did the king of clumsyness get faster? Maybe, but if he wants to stop him, he has to do better. Stabbing the knifes deep into both rotting tighs behind him, he frees himself from the attempts to get strangled. The second he's free he dashes forward Laurie. Oh, how beautiful her terrified eyes look and how alluring her extrem fear is! He can literally smell it pouring out of every single pore of her body. The screeching scream escaping her throat only fuels his rising desire to take a bath in her blood. Straightening up in front of her, strideing out and just about to burry the blades into the inviting soft flesh, a force from behind crashes his head into the trunk behind her, causing splinters of wood flying around. His body halfway collapses onto Laurie and for a few moments he sees stars.

Despite his brain flys through the univers right now, he is able to notice how close he his to her. She doesn't even tries to back away, only is whimpering quietely. He is the one who wants to back away, it's just disgusting to be so close to her, feel her body pressing to his and hearing her heart beat with racing speed. How joyfull would it be to rip it out of her chest? When his hand raises, the knife dropped while being smashed into the tree and he grabs her by her shoulder digging fingernails into her flesh, it's getting hot under his grip. Fire catches his skin, flickering and burning his flesh with immens heat. Confuesed pushing himself away from her and shaking his hand to extinguish the fire, he drops down on his knees. Fuck, his brain is rebooting way to slow and damn it's only increasing his anger. Heavy footsteps are passing him and Laurie screams again. Trying to focus his vision though it is heavily blurry, he discerns Jason standing in front of her, machete raised high above his head. No way this is going to happen!

Though he can't see clearly and his head feels like a truck had hit him, he jumps up doing the first few steps using his hands and feet, Michael throws himself between the falling blade and screaming Laurie.

„Don't you dare to harm only one hair on her head! She's **MINE**!!“.

His knife tears deep into the side of Jasons neck while the machete cuts it's way through his upper body neatly severing the tissue and bones. Blood floats down like a waterfall, covering both of them, splattering over Lauries terrified face behind him. Letting the knife stick into to rotting flesh, he grabs Jasons throat violently and pushes them both to the ground. The tighter he squeezes, the more of the thick, dark blood spills out around the knife. Sitting on Jasons chest he leans his full weight onto his arms. „I'll snap your stupid neck!“, he snarls between his bared theeth, not even flinching when Jason rudely pulls at the machete to get it out of his shoulder. While it slowly slides out of him inch by inch with every pull, letting even more blood flow out of the gap covering Jason in a nicely tone of rich red, cold fingers lay around his throat.

„Stop.It.Michael“, Jason gaspes almost not audibal, because of the hands squeezing every structure in his throat tightly together. The response to it is a hard pull and push, causing his head to slam down to the ground. When the grib on Michaels throat tightens, the bigger killer manages to push them both up and rolls on top of the roaring devil. Pinned down Michael doesn't thinks about to let go, in contrary his fingernails dig into the rotting flesh and he feels pieces of skin peel off under his grip. Jasons weight feels like crushing his rips and pushes the oxygen out of his lungs, but the only thing his furious mind can think about is to kill both. Ramming his knee up into Jasons guts, he wiggles halfway out from under him. The cold hand can't hold him any longer and landing a forcefull kick into Jasons rips he manages to break free.

Laurie is still plastered to the tree, staring at him in terror when he approaches her again. Why she's not trying to flee, this question fades in the flames of his burning anger, leaving only ashes. Almost there he hears Jason shout at him from behind: „Michael, stop!“. As if this is going to happen! A grin showing off nothing but insanity spreads across his face under his mask when he bends down and picks up the knife he dropped there. Grabbing Laurie rude by the hair on the back of her head, bending it over to reveal her throat, he puts the knife into position. Pure fear and terror is all he can see and he highly enjoys it. It's like using his favorite drug again since years! His body shivers in the expection of the feeling of serotonin flooding his brain by killing someone. That the someone is going to be Laurie is an immense plus. The second he slides the blade over the oh so soft throat, a hand grabs his shoulder. „Stop it already!“, screams Jasons rumbling voice near his ear followed by a struck like thunder and darkness.

\-----------------

He's huffing and puffing when he catches up with Michael. Resting his hands onto his knees Jason tries to calm his breath while looking around searching for something the little devil was chasing after. There's nothing. Some rustling noises in the bushes, obviously animals hectically hiding from them. But else? No, nothing out of order here. Expect the freaky Michael. Still breathing heavily Jason stumbles in front of him. His lungs are burning and sweat is soaking his clothes. Damn, that's the second time he has to run after him in lesser than a week! Michael is staring ahead, right into nothing, but his eyes are widened and panic is slightly shimmering in them.

„Hey Michael?“, he quietely tries again. Not that he could've managed to speak louder, still out of breath. Anyhow it doesn't matters. Michael seems to be frozen not responsing, not blinking and completely out of this world. Tilting his head in confusion, Jason remembers his mother telling him about sleepwalking. People exiting their beds at night, walking around, doing things, eyes wide open, but caught up deep into sleep. He was slightly creeped out back then, the thought somehow scared the shit out of him, but he also remembers her telling him that it was very dangerous to abrubtly wake somebody who's sleepwalking. They could possibly get stuck in that state. Sizing Michael up, he's pretty sure the twisted little demon is sleepwalking, ah, and running as well.

After what seems like forever with Michael only standing there frozen and Jason helpless thinking about what to do, suddenly the show goes on. Jason missed somebody screaming „Action!“, but Michael obviously heared it. Jumping forward a tree, knifes ready to strike, he stops only inches away from it. There's nothing. The only thing moving is a big owl, wings flapping while escaping from the tree and searching shelter on another. Jason slowly walkes over, cautious to be quiet as possible. Maybe when he gently touches him, he can guide him back to the cabin without waking him and turning his brain into mash. Laying his hand softly on the sweat covered nape, a word tries to form in his throat, but never makes it out.

Bad mistake!

Is there a button for killer mode at Michaels nape? It has to be, caurse suddenly an angry growling Michael swings around ready to burry the knifes into Jasons torso. His hand still at his nape, Jason turns and pushes him away, hard enough that the sleeping body does a not so elegant landing on the ground. Shit, he doesn't intended to push him that much, but seeing the insaine touch in the dark sparkling eyes darting out to him, maybe it wasn't hard enough. He doesn't woke up for sure. Before Jason can think about what to do next, Michael is up again running torwards him. He doesn't wants to hurt or wake him, so when Michael is about to pass him, fixated to that dumb tree who knows why, a strong arm reaches out grabbing the middel of him. The force caurses them to spin around a few times, slasher ballet, how nice! Feeling his head equally spin, Jason holds Michael tight, who's wiggeling and struggeling to get free. His energy feels so foreign now. The usual harmony is gone instead it seems to try to fight Jason back. Biting into his own causing a burning pain to spread through his body. When he sees the two knifes fast swinging backwards right to his tighs, he lets go and jumps to avoid them.

Free Michael rushes to the tree again. God, what is he seeing there? Following him Jason grabs the collar and the fabric on the back of the overall, fed up with the freaky performance and begins to drag Michael away. Oh and he doesn't likes it, not a bit. Kicking and fidgeting like a child that is dragged away from it's desired sweets he screams: „Don't you dare to harm only one hair on her head! She's MINE!!“. Ooookay, what the? But no, no, he's not going to figure out what that means. He will drag the screaming and fidgeting psycho back to the cabin and strap him down on his bed if he must.

"Stop, Michael!", he snarls full of annoyence already when they reach the shore and the flapping of big wings sounds up again. The owl lands on a tree near the shore, curiously watching them with it's huge yellow eyes. Jason notices it but his brain stores it to the „not important at all while handling a psychicotic devil“ section. He doesn't knows it yet, but later he will increase the importance level.

He's right about to take a turn into the direction of the cabin when Michael manages to finally wiggle out of his grib. Fumbling hectically to get a hold of him again, gosh it's like trying to catch a fish with your bare hands, Jason suddenly has two tightly squeezing hands around his neck. Jumping onto him like a rabid animal, eyes crazy as they can be and pushing them both down to the ground, Michael spits: „I'll snap your stupid neck!“. The madness can be heard in his voice and now Jason understands why he used to describe himself as a twisted fuck even as a child. The energy transported through the touch feels like it's burning his flesh off his bones like acid. An invisible and strong force right out of a nightmare that creeps it's way inside. The hands are squeezing even tighter and half on instict, half loosing his shit enterily now, Jason puts a hand to Michaels throat as well, squeezing it not so gently. It doesn't matter, if he doesn't woke up when pushed around and dragged away, he won't wake up by getting choked as well.

„Stop.It.Michael!“, he chokes and coughts more than he actually says it. Who knew this slender and smooth fingers could strangle him so hard? A spark of pure insanity flickers in the black orbs and the next second his head gets violently slammed onto the ground. Fuck, that hurt! Are there not enough bumps already?! Yes, there are enough! Now Jason gets pissed. Growling annoyedly he pushes them both up while wondering that he managed to stay calm for so long. Rolling on top of Michael, anger tightening the grip on his throat even more, he tries to get a steady hold of him with his other hand.

But Michael isn't about to let that happen. Dashing up one of his knees, Jason coughts by the impact arranging his guts in a new order. Pressing one arm around his middle he slightly tipping to one site, but still keeping hold of Michaels throat. Said little shit takes his chance and places a bonebreaking kick into Jasons ripcage. He can swear he heard the typical crackle and pop sounds breaking bones are making. While crauching on the ground trying not to suffocate, Michael is up again running torwards the tree near the shore where the owl is still sitting and watching. He's like Don Quijote, but instead of windmills he fights trees.

Still holding his violated middle and rips, Jason comes to realize there is no use to try it with his regular methods. And he sure won't leave Michael here alone in the forest that state he is in with the unbelievable ammount of raging energy within. Turning his head, watching Michael enthusiastically approaching the tree, suddenly he has an idea. If it were a cartoon, a lightbulb would pop up over his head. Shifting his eyes from Michael to the shore and back a few times, he is sure it could work. It's hurtfull to shove himself up, but he manages it and while following Michael, he pulls his machete out from under his belt. Reaching the psychopath who's about to cut into the trunk, Jason stretches his arm as much as possible, dipping the tip of the blade just deep enough into the water to slighlty cut the surface. The same time his other arm, equally stretched, grabs Michaels shoulder. Hadn't that tree could stand a little closer to the shore?! He's no fucking contortionist!! His body protests in any way, though he masters the new joga pose and before the lightning like strike strucks through his body screams: „Stop it already!“.

Huffing but this time relieved as hell, Jason collapsed to his knees next to the equally collapsed Michael. It worked, he's a genuis, tell everybody! Functioning as an electrical conductor the blow first shot through him and then through Michael. The now all quiet and peacfull like a kitten devil lays flat on his back, eyes shut firmly, breathing rapidly, mumbling unidentified words, but at least is not raging anymore. Jasons hand slowly caresses the area around the collarbone left uncovered by the slightly slipped overall. Enjoying the second time getting strucked by the lake, he first was afraid that it seriously injured Michael. Checking for pulse and breathing obviously he only got knocked out cold by it. Thanks hell for that! The feeling of Michaels energy changed back as well. Now it's trying to cling to Jasons own again.

\-----------------

After slowly gaining back his consciousness, the rage and possesion came back fast. Only sparely explaining what he dreamed of, though he is sure it wasn't only a dream and feeling only a little bit guilty for attacking Jason, he immediately took off to leave the camp. That's how Jason ended up using all he‘s got to sweet talk Michael out of his unreasonable plan, following him to the border of the camps grounds and get called a retard. Still feeling the nasty sting of getting called like that again, nostalgia how joyfull, the last of his protest gets washed away when Michael calls him a good boy. He almost can't stand the happy response is body gives. Unable to stop the one he feels greately responsable for, he only manages to point out one more thing. „But you're not even wearing shoes…“, his voice sounds deeply worried, when both of them look down an Michael wiggles his bare toes.


	6. "Imaging me as a dirtier and greedier puppy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First thing: I want to thank you all for reading my mess so far and even leaving kudos! Every time I notice a new kudo my day gets enlightend *o* You really manage to melt the queens heart :*
> 
> Second: I changed the rating to explicit. If you want to know why, sure the title of the chapter gives you a tiny hint, and are brave enough keep on reading :P
> 
> Last but not least, a little story about my poorly life: Yesterday morning I walked into my kitchen, my as good as new, precious kitchen and was slightly shocked by the view. It literally looked like Dresden 1945 and I'm sure the smell was even considerable. So, writing this story obviously distracts me from my daily duities on a decent level. I should change that...maybe...Otherwise I'm sure I'll drown in dirt and filth until the story is finished! But no risk no fun, right? I'm willing to risk it and anyhow show must go on! Now have fun with the chapter :*

After countless tries of crossing the border, early noon has arrived and Jason, not able to bother about a single more swear of the greatly pissed Michael, has taken a seat in the shadow of an large tree. Sun stands high and shines bright, brighter than usual, but slowly and steadily he gets used to it. Since Michael appeared out of thin air at the camp, neither the air loaded with vibrating power, neither the strange and unusualy appeariance of the vegetation, or the stinging shine of the sun, neither every other detail swifted into an extraordinary state has changed. Michael really caursed a disturbance of the matrix.

  
Resting his head back to the thick trunk, Jason slips in and out of short naps. Everytime Michael stamps past him and mutters muffled swears under his nose, he shortly wakes only to trail off into light sleep again when the attempt to cross the border fails and he can hear the little devil loudly screaming out his frustration in the distance.

  
After confincing him that he could get shoes when he's on his way to Haddonfield, becoming aware that Michael actually can drive, he hadn't known that and making their goodbuy by connecting through their mingling energies, worries washed over him again.  
What if they catch him and lock him down again? What if he makes it to Haddonfield and succeeds? What if he makes it to Haddonfield and doesn't succeeds? Will he come back? Will he see him ever again? What if someone comes up with an evil-genuis plan and figures out how to kill him once and for all? What if he can't find shoes anywhere and has to do his kamikaze performence barefood?  
He watched Michael approaching the invisible line that draws the border around the camps grounds, thrilled by the thoughts rushing through his head and only bearily able to hold himself back from just grabbing him and lock him up in the cabin until he forgets about all that. Not that there would be a bit of a chance that that would actually happen, but he secretely wished it to be that easy.

Staring with a swirling mixture of sadness, fear, insecurety and worry clenching around his soul, feeling his energy reaching out for it's leaving couple, Jason felt quiet the same like when he had learned his mother passed away. Pardox, cause he was deseased as well, but in contrary was doomed to stay in the world of the living and instead of spending the eternity with his beloved mother only could hear her whisper to him from time to time.  
Planning to stand there and only watch until Michael would disappear at the horizon, it would be a monster of an understatment that he was decently surprised when instead the slinky body just vanished right in front of his eyes. *puff* and gone. What the hell? Was it usual for Michael to appear out of and disappear into thin air like Houdini? Frozen with his mouth dropped open and eyes wide as they could manage to get, he felt and for sure also looked like the local idiot.

  
The familar sound of a really pissed Michael broke the spell of just standing there frozen and look really stupid. In a slight distance the rumbling voice of the maniac shot up through the trees right up into the sky. „Not again!“, it yelled followed by severel different swears, his mother stricktly told him he should never even think of using. Turning into the direction the nasty swearing came from that would've caursed Michael a nice spanking and weeks long house arrest if he would've done it in front of his mom, Jason wondered what the actual heck did happen, but also a feeling of warm and sweet relieve spread through him. It only took a few minutes to meet up with the raging Michael. Approaching him he wildly gestured with his arms, shouting something about that the same shit happened the first night he tried to run from Jason, leaving a puzzled look on the big guys face. Not getting what was going on he was sure if Michael would only brandish a little bit more, he would manage to lift up in the air and fly out of the camp.

  
When Michael told him, in a sped up and slightly pitched voice, what happened the first night and that the same happened yet again, the puzzled look remained on him. Nodding and humming while the little devils voice reached dangerously hights, he quiet couldn't explain nothing about it to himself. He never bothered to cross the border, well yeah he did once or twice but that was an eternity ago and he couldn't care less about if he was able to leave the camp or not.

  
„Is it supposed to be like this??“

„No.“

  
„No??!“

  
„No…I don't think so.“

  
„You don't—ARGH!“

  
After their very imformative talk, Michael stubborn as a tank, refused to go back to the cabin and try to figure out what was wrong with the border that it hold them captured like clever beings would do it, instead he tried to get out of the camp several more unsuccessfull times. Everytime he was send back into the forest, his anger and swears increased in volume, intensity and creativity. Some of them were so dirty, nasty and evil, Jason had never heared of them before, they shrilled in his ears and he could never imaging to use only one of them himself.

  
When his back begins to ache and the sun slowly hides behind the highest of the treetops, not to speak of the rising exhaustion that is shown on Michael, though Mister can-do-anything would never admit that, Jason tries his luck of talking him into the idea of getting back to the cabin and end this useless circle of repeating. Only crazy people try the same thing over and over again and expect different results, right? Though Michael sure was a crazy and twisted little psychopath, but even he must have enough of reasonable thinking left to understand the uselessness of his attempts.

  
„How about we call it a night now and get back to the cabin?“, he asks when Michael is about to pass him again huffing like a bull. Straightening up with a great yawn, performing a full body stretch with an arched back an everything, Jason lazily walks over to the huffing mess of sweaty hair and clothes. Dirt sticks to the white mask letting it look like painted in camouflage and to the damp overall, little sticks and a few leaves tangled into the equally damp and more than usual fuzzy hair.

  
Shooting him a glare able to kill any mortal immediately with, Michael snarls with a decent touch of annoyence: „No, I will cross that damn magical border, get out of that rediciously land of fairies and goblins and do what I'm fucking supposed to!“.

  
„But you're all exhausted, sun is already setting and doing that much of walking without shoes your feet must be sour.“

  
„First no, I'm not even near to be exhausted, maybe warmed up till now and second, I don't give a shit about the damn sun or my feet. I'll crawl all the way to Haddonfield on my hands and knees if I fucking have to!“

  
„What a dirty mouth you have.“, Jason starts and grabs Michaels face with one big hand squeezing his cheeks, „My mom would've whipped your ass, scrubbed your teeth with a piece of soap and would've made sure you don't leave your room until you turned into a freaky kind of hermit.“  
It's not possible to hide the slight teasing from is voice neither the equally teasing grin spreading under his mask. Maybe it’s not a good idea to trigger the little devils tamper right now, but he just wasn't able to swallow it down.

  
„Oh well, who gives a rats ass about that?“, Michael spits though his words are muffled by the hand squeezing his cheeks and lips into a duckface. Obstreperousness sparkles through the tired eyes he's only able to hold hazyly open. But never, never would he hold back a biting comment! As long as he can talk, his tounge will spit venom when challanged.

  
„Charming as always.“, is all Jason sighs in return while rolling his eyes and letting go of the dirt covered mask before he throws his arms around Michaels back and grabs him , lifting him up. He's deffinitely not up to play a new round of „ _Argue with Master-Unreasonable_ _and see if you manage stay sain_ “. Also the fact that the little demon is exhausted till his limits gives him the chance to succeed with carrying him back this time. Wake Michael deosn't likes it a bit as well as sleepwalking Michael, immediately starting to fidget using all of his left strenght and pouring an impressing therade of yelled swaers over him.

  
Absolutly unimpressed though it amuses him how stubborn and energetic the demon is, only humming along with him, Jason starts to carry the wiggling and yelling package back. Michaels attampts to free himself out of the bearhug getting weaker and weaker with every step he's carried by the strong arms until the last bit of resistence vanishes and only limply hanging arms and legs are left. Not able to do anything else, defeated as he his, his head sinks down onto one of the wide shoulders, resting his forehead to it while still annoyedly huffing and puffing.  
„I hate you…“, he hisses against Jasons neck, his voice clearly carrying his disgust over giving in to the big guy, but not even compared to sound as snappy as it was supposed to.

  
Under his mask a satisfied and cocky smile plays along Jasons lips. „I know and for now, I'm fine with it.“

\-----------------

  
Yelling at each other became a popular actifity over the last few days and hell, yeah Michael was losing his already barealy existing patience. Though sometimes, doing their little verbal battles, he was highly entertained by pushing Jason far enough that mommas good boy began to swear like a sailor. It was fun to play „ _How far do I have to go until Jason loses his shit_ “ and it always ended with a shocked Jason about his own language, yelling at him „ _Now look what you've done! You're incrediable!_ “.

  
But honestely it wasn't his fault, well not completely. Sure he enjoyed it to provoke Jason until he exploded like a rocket shooting up in the sky, but the reason for their fights and his shrinking patience was said dudes annoying behavior. The fact that he was trapped here with him only making it worse. While it was fun running contests of „ _Who swears best_ “ and of course it was him, being trapped without a single chance getting to Haddonfield any time soon, no matter what he tried and being constantly observed by mother hen Jason was just a living hell!

  
„You don't think it's time to stop being paranoid and let me sleep by myself while you go and lay down on your beloved wooden floor downstairs?“, Michael asks his shadow, Jason, while flipping back the blanket on his bed, giving an extra emphasis to the word „ _beloved_ “. Honestely, who prefers a hard and dirty floor with who knows what crawling around there at night, when upstairs are nineteen unoccupied beds?? Giving him a side-glance the big guy doesn't appears like he's about to agree with that.

  
„Nope I'm absolut comfortable here, thank you and if something happens, I can take action right away before it gets worse.“

  
Oh yeah, right. Because he sleepwalked once, **ONCE** he needs to be under observation twentyfour-seven. Turning around, not hiding the rising annoyence that can be clearly seen in his gaze, he folds his arms in front of his chest and takes a stand. „Yeah, I know you are, but what if I'm not?“

  
„Better being save than comfortable.“, Jason states in an all knowing tone.

  
„I would prefer to feel comfortable though the super duper tiny bit of the chance that I actually sleepwalk again.“

  
„And I would prefer if you would stop complaining like a small child and just accept that I only try to protect you.“

  
„Oh, you would _Daddy_ , wouldn't you?!“, and that's the moment Michaels temper gets lose, „With your mother hen attitude and your overprotectiv behavior, dancing around my ass all day and night! Let me tell you something Sherlock, I'm as well an imortal, very expirienced and fucking skilled, maniac of a killer! I don't need anyone to protect me and play babysitter, caurse surprise, surprise it's not damn possible to do any fucking seriouse harm to me!!“  
Throwing his hands up over his head in an overdramatic manner, exhaling an annoyed „ _pffft_ “ followed by a slightly maniac sounding chuckle he adds: Shit, you should know that. You tried to kill me!“.

  
What twisted kind of freakshow did he actually get thrown in? When the only thing he wants is to end his doomed bloodline. Is it really too much to ask for?!

\-----------------

  
The whole disaster started the evening Jason carried him back to the cabin. He was so exhausted that he fell asleep in the tight embrace, his head plastered against Jasons broad chest. Not that it didn't felt good. No, it actually felt pretty nice listening to Jasons deep and throaty breath, feeling the big guys energy washing over him and covering him like a really soft blanket while slipping off into dreamland. The big weirdo surely enjoyed it as well, carrying a sweetfull sleeping and drooling Michael around. The thing that nagged him was being carried away like a toddler from the playground and not being able to do anything about it despites letting it happen. Where had his life went so wrong that it had come so far?!

  
When he woke up early the next morning, it was still dark outside and no birds were chirping. They all were still sleeping, waiting for the sun to rise. Yawning and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he was close, very close to get a heartattack when he noticed the bulky silouette sitting on a chair right in front of his bed. Glad that he hadn't actually pissed himself, he quized the shadowy figure. Arms folded in front of his chest, head hanging down, the long legs spread out reaching under the bedframe, Jason was sleeping peacfully and soundfully snoring.  
So King-Weirdo obviously decided to guard him while sleeping. He hadn’t even noticed Jason took him to bed the evening before, he was just far too deep into dreamland. The big guy obviously was worried and it was understandable. At least in some way. The day and night before he definitely acted strange, unreasonable and it was no surprise that Jasons protective side kicked in. Hadn't it only not kicked so hard!

  
Expecting the little sleepover as an one time only thing was a huge mistake. Oh no, if Jason gets in protective mode, he pushes it up to rediciously high levels. He not only explained that he would sleep on the chair next to his bed every night from now on, no, he also forced him to come with him guarding the camps grounds and also to spend any other second of the day under his personal protection. No matter how much he complained or argued or even yelled, mother hen wouldn't accept any of it. This guy sure could make a bunch of money working as the bodyguard for one of those attention addicted, only bothering about what to wear the next day, self announced promi chicks. And hell, the poor thing wouldn't even be able to take a piss in private anymore.

  
While on one hand he really enjoyed being with Jason, getting to know each other, a being like him and testing out their connection on the base beyond spoken words or bodylanguage on the other hand he wasn't used to have company on such a frequent base and sure not to have an undercover stasi-agent to deal with. Christ, sometimes it even took him all of his unsteady attention to only follow their conversations and answering something usefull despites only grunting and nodding along. The time being locked up caursed him a big lack of the abillity to handle company without feeling the urge to run away or slaughter said company. The only good thing about it was that he had the chance to test any single spot of the border, while joining Jason on his guard, on any weakspots. After finding none and realizing that there was no way out, it was just pissing him off to roam the camps grounds with Jason three times a day. The same trees, the same lake, the same bushes, the same landscape and nothing ever changed or anything important happened. Jason could spend a year, fuck no, ten years(!) in the cabin and nothing would dramatically change! Whatever paranoid szenarios the big guy was worrying about, it won't happen!

\-----------------

  
„Michael, don't push it too far. I know you're not an ordinary mortal and I only try to make it save as possible for you while we are captured here. Attacking me and some innocent trees, by the way they never did anything to deserve your anger, isn't quiet normal even for someone like you.“, resting both hands on the back of his „sleeping-chair“ Jason grumbles at him. Well aware that Michael will be not amused about the tree comment.

  
So, there it was! It wasn't supposed to be like this. The big guy just admitted it! Screw his innocent statement „ _I don't think so_.“ letting it appear like he had no idea!  
No, he's not able to hold his rage back any longer. Jumping around the chair, pushing Jason away from it and angrily poking the big guys chest, Michael goes psycho! „I knew it! It isn't supposed to send everything that tries to cross it back deep into the forest! And by the way,“ raising his hands and gesturing hectically with them in front of Jasons face ending with one raised index finger alsmost touching the mask, „ I told you I attacked Laurie not your precious stupid little trees! And what do you fucking mean by _someone like you_? Am I a walking talking freak show for you or what? Do you have fun observing the freaked out little Mickey while he desperately uses every single damn bit of controll not to go fucking insain any second?!“

  
„Cut it out Michael or—“

  
„Or what?!“, driving over him and again poking Jasons chest making him back away by every poke until he bumps into the second bed the room helds. „Will you torture me again untill I lose consciousness?“, and the last poke sends Jason straight down, sitting on the matress looking angrily up at him. Michael hovering over him in his complete mad pride. Give him a helmet and a cape and violá! You have a super villian.  
Like the teasing shit he is Michael adds: „You think I didn't noticed how you enjoyed it? Your grunts and your body responsing? Be sure I noticed it all you little pervert!! What would your oh so holy mommy say, seeing her little precious son all aroused by strangeling and cutting someone?“.

  
And now it was Jasons turn to snap. Anger dangerously boiling in the pit of his stomach, his hands dart out to grab Michael by his shoulders and forcefully push him down on the matress. Grabbing both of his wrists with one hand shoving them over his head and pressing them down, Jason manhandles the fidgeting and swearing hot headed guy under his body before his free hand catches the soft throat. „Don’t you dare to speak of her with that dirty mouth of yours, you little bugger!“ God, Michael always manages to let him lose his shit and doing it on purpose only makes it worse! And no, oh no, not even pinned down under him, only able to bearly move and almost fully cut off from oxygen the little devil stops his provokations.

  
„You…really have a kink for chocking,…. don't you?“, he dirtily chuckles though his words are more or less cut short, but the cockyness can be heared just fine.

  
„You just don't know when it's time to shut your damn mouth.“ Squeezing the smooth throat tighter, Jason is only inches away from grabbing the idiots head and hammering it into the wooden wall next to the bed until there would only remain splinters.

  
Feeling the grip tighten, Michael pushes his head back onto the pillow under him, revealing his throat even more and lets out a deep and throaty moan while twitching slighty under the big angry Jason on top of him. _Lets see how much more it takes to let the big guy lose his temper completely,_  he thinks slightly entertained. Eyes closed and with an evil grin hidden under his mask, he continues his little show: „Come on big boy…admit that you like it rude and dirty…“. Underlining his words with one of his legs lifting up to slightly push between Jason spread thighs resting on each side of his hips. Mommas boy surely goes berserk any moment, how delighting.

  
But the answer Jason gives is not what he expected or hoped for in the first place. Letting go of Michaels wrists when he feels the unfamilar push between his tighs, the hand on his throat almost slips as well. Surprised would be an understatment how Jason feels that moment stunned even, but remembering how tricky and nasty Michael gets while doing their little entertaining games of power, he forces himself to not get distracted and grabs him again.  
Pushing his weight onto the arm that holds Michael firmly, he bends over him to lock his gaze to the challanging black eyes. Switching tactics and beat that little shit with his own weapons.

  
„You're right, I did. I enjoyed every single second of it to the fullest. Watching you die so gracefully, feeling your heated blood washing over my hands, seeing the tiny responses your body gave though even then you were too stubborn and proud to let fully show your pain and suffer. Looking into that groundless eyes of yours not even able to find one tiny bit of fear or panic only that „ _fuck off_ “ gaze you mastered so perfectly. You know what? I never saw anybody die so beautifully as you did and, be sure, I never enjoyed killing so much like I did it that night.“

  
Huffing at the end of his small speach while still holding the black orbs locked, Jason wonders if that was enough to let Michael shut up. And hell it definitely appears like! First there is a hint of disgust showing in his eyes, then maybe something like disbelieve, but the farther Jason talks the more it gets washed away by surprise and shock. When the verbal attack is over, the only thing left is a puzzled look. Take that, prince teasing-little-shit!

  
But Michael wouldn't be Michael if he allow it to happen that mommas little innocent boy beats him in talking dirty. The guy died as a preteen, how much could he honestly know about things like these to beat him?? After gaining his concentration back, caurse yes, he has to admit he doesn't expected Jason to be able to say things like these without getting too embarressed to continiue, he slightly lifts his head pushing himself up on his now free ellbows closer to Jason who's still hovering over him. Using the dirtiest and lust filled voice he can come up with, eyes hazy and staring back teasingly into the blue ones, he purrs: „Oh I know you did big boy, I felt it.“ Slightly moving his leg that still is well positioned between Jasons tighs, causing some friction he adds amused: „And I can feel it now.“.

  
He expects Jason to back away in disgust, but to his decent surprise he doesn't. He twitches and the blue eyes widen in shock, yes, but only to fall shut the next second and a low groan escapes from the masked lips. Raising one curiouse brow and equally curious about what actually is hapenning right know, Michael lazily keeps on rubbing his leg between the big guys tighs and intensly watches his reactions tilting his head from side to side. Is he still trying to win their little contest or did he started to really enjoy this? Low grunts and swallowed little moans are keeping on slipping out and the hand that choked him so delightfully moments before is now resting on his chest clenching into the overall. Feeling his own slowly growing excietememt impatiently asking for attention and noticing the deepth and lowness of his own breathing, a carefully and testing hand takes the place of his leg, gently continuing rubbing the, he admits impressive, bulge.

  
„Michael…“, the breatless and slightly hitching voice of Jason mutters, when the slender fingers start to undo his belt.

  
Looking up into worried blue eyes with pretty widened pitch black pupills, he whispers shoothingly: „ It's ok big boy. Just relaxe a little.“.

  
Oh, how he loves to have the upper hand and even more when he managed it to handle a huge and strong berserker like the one Jason definitely is. There's nothing better than pulling somebodys strings like a puppetmaster, making them act and do like he wants it. Well maybe killing Laurie and her progeny, but with that far out of reach at the moment, having a little fun with Jason, already giving in to him like a little well behaved puppy, has to do it for now.

  
„Good boy.“, he praises when Jason lets him continiue with undoing his belt and freeing his rock hard cock out of it's way too tight trap of black fabric without any resitiance. Seeing it jump free, twitching in realease for one small moment his breathing hitches. It's one of the oldest and dullest cliches ever, but saying it's the biggest he had ever seen is the pure truth! Yeah sure, it fits the rest of Jasons body. Equally covered in slightly rotting skin with it's pale greyish color, but nonetheless impressing.

  
„Oh my…“, he gives an amazed purr, biting down his lower lip. When looking up to Jason he notices the embarressed expression even though mostly hidden under the mask. The blue angel eyes are staring to the wall almost about to break holes into. Hell, how cute is this please?? Chuckling quietely to himself he grabs the cold hand that started to try to strangle his overall. Peeling the cramped fingers off of the fabric, never stopping to follow Jasons gaze that now is turned down on him with a mixture of embarrasment and curiousity, smoothly he guids it to unzip the overall. Good that Jasons eyes seem to be still firmly attached into his skull, otherwise as wide as they get with every inch of the reavealing pale skin they deffinitely would pop out of his head.

  
„Michael…I- I don't….don't know what—„, Jasons starts hesitantely, oh great, the stuttering is back, but gets interrupted by a line of shhh noises. Moments before they were fighting each other like cats and dogs and now? Now every cell of his body tells him to just trust the devil himself and let him take the lead. Michael is a mage, he must be.

  
His hand is slowly guided up from the flat slightly musculare stomach to the, with every deep breath gracefully falling and raising chest and Jason truly wonders, while mesmerized by the soft feeling under is palm, if it is possible that Michael is made out of alabaster. Course damn, it can't be common to have skin as smooth and pale like his. Even the scars of the cuts he placed there are almost not visible anymore, fading into the light cream tone of Michaels skin. When one of the slender hands starts to wrap around and slowly strokes his hard member, he by the way totally forgot about, his eyes squeez shut and his body does a violent twitch. It's almost painful, he never felt such an intense touch not even when he got killed in the past. While he can't do nothing but try to muffle his deep moans, he hears Michaels voice elegantly dancing into his blurry mind.

  
„You surely have patted puppies as a kid, don't you? Do the same with me, but imaging me as a way dirtier and greedier little puppy.“

  
The roguish grin hidden under Michaels mask can be heared in his voice and damn it gets Jason. As if these dirty and pleassure filled words purred to him so unbeliveable gently were some kinds of magic spells. They might be for real, caurse he does how he got told and lets his hand uncertainly roam the warm and inviting body. By all demons, he never felt his mind so blurry and at the same time racing with several questions. What to do? How to do it? When? Where? He's so poorly clueless.

  
But when the body under him starts to slightly squirm under his touch and Michael as well begins to moan quietely, his hand gets certainer. He slowly figures out where to touch taking Michaels responses as guidance. It appears that there are some places that are more desired to get touched than others. Like the small and beautifully pink nipples. How should he know? Geeze, he never did something like this before! But the way the slinky back arches off of the matress and a weak groan rises up when he curiously pinches one of them are tale telling. Not to mention the sudden tightenig grip on him.

  
The big guy really learns fast, Michael has to admit that. Meanwhile he highly enjoys the growing interest in his extemly sensitive nipples. He also has to admit, that getting caressed and explored by the cold touch feels way better than he imaginated it to. Not that he imgaginated something like this! Much… While enjoying what he receives, a third thing is to admit. It's not about to win this stupid fight anymore, no, the whole situation took a surprisingly different turn.

  
The curiousity behind every move Jason makes amuses him. Like a blind trying to visual his body through his hands. Letting his free hand slip under the remaining part of his overall where the zipper ends, he begins to stroke his very impatient waiting shaft, taking up the same rythm his other hand performce on Jason. Remembering that this is obviously the first time Jason expiriences intimacy, he is stunned the big guy is lasting so long instead of errupting like a vulcano by the slightest touch. On contrary he is sure he deffinitely won't last long, since it's been a long time he didn't even wasted a lazy thought about such activities.

  
Freeing his leaking cock from under the overall, planning to get them fast to the finish, he gently guids Jason closer by his hips. One hand firmly grabs both of their pulsing shafts speeding up to work them fast to the finish line. It's amazing how much pre cum is dripping down from Jasons twitching dick onto his stomache, but hey, the poor guy must be starving! His other hand slides up on Jasons nape pulling him down closely.

  
„Be a good boy and cum for me.“, he moans into Jasons ear, feeling coming closer to his own realease, smiling to the shiver his words caursed running through the big body. Jasons louder and even deeper getting moans and the fact his hips started to thrust into his firm grip, adding more highly welcomed friction, shows him his big buddy is more than willing to obey to his demand.

It takes a few more rude strokes and thrusts and the masked face burrys to his shoulder, hiding while the cold hand slides under him and a strong arm pulls him close. Joined by sweet and desperate sounding groans and a body that jolts uncontrollably, the long builded up pleassure explodes onto him in thick streams that seem to never end. Fuck, he never had seen a guy shoot that much! The cold, slick cum covering his stomach also pushes him over the edge. Arching his back, temporarily blinded by pleassure that seems to tore him appart, there's nothing else to do than claw into Jasons neck and buck his hips up while exhaling long and vibrating moans, messing up his belly even more with his own hot cum.

  
„Such a good boy…“, his dizzy brain makes him absently praise Jason again, still totally out of this world and only very slowly coming back. His hand still resting on the with cold sweat covered neck, lazyly drawing circles with his slender fingers.

  
Jason on contrary isn't able to even think about coherent words. While trying to catch his breath, head all light and blurry also still plastered to Michaels sweaty shoulder the only thing he gets out is an agreeing grunt. Damn, he feels high as a kite!  
After a few moments, remaining in his position on top of Michael, enjoying the gentle stroking he gives him and the unbeliveable heat streaming out from his body, Jason slowly comes around enough again to form a slightly frightening thought. „I'm doomed by a wicked little devil right out of hell.“, he thinks way too weak to seriously bother about it right now.

 

 


	7. Murderous buddies with privileges and coincidentally matching auras

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, sorry, SORRY for the wait! I deeply apologize for letting you wait! *crouches down and bends head to the ground*  
> The last few days everything was thrown at me at once and people were like "Oh, you're not able to do thousend different things in one turn?" D: Also the king decided it was a good oppurtunity to discuss several things @.@ Plus preperations for the CSD are in the making and I'm still not sure about my make-up or outfit or haircolor or even hair style. I tell you, it's driving me crazy!
> 
> My ex-boss pissed me off as well and I was decently distrected by forging a plan of revange with my wonderful, lovely and equally pissed girls. But now, now it's done, chapter 7, enjoy :)

Women are dangerous and can't be trusted, his mother had always told him. It was a women who brought the anger of god over mankind by eating from the forbidden appletree and like her, all her sisters would bring the same unfortunate disaster over every clueless men who was stupid enough to trust them. They are just like the snake Eve cooperated with in the first place, she said. Sneaky, manipulativ, evil, selfish, wicked and no matter what ever happenes, he should never ever trust one of them.

  
Michael deffinitely and more than obviously was no women, but he sure featured the same characteristics. Sometimes even worse than his mother had descriped them in every tiny detail! It now was almost excactly four month ago that he appeared in the middle of the night and the camp had changed to it's current state. During this relatively short timespan he had managed it more than once to successfully manipulate him and sneak into his mind like said snake to push the correct buttons. It always depented on what Michael was up to and it always seemed like he had access to the operation manual to Jasons brain, caurse sooner or later he would type in the right combination and Jason did what he wanted him to do.

  
Now, roaming the camp all alone by himself, becaurse Michael had managed to sweet talk him out of it that he always had to join him. Jason was sure even if Michael was a male all what mother had told him counts for him too. And why should it not? Considering that Jason never had the chance to get to know the various different possibilities of pairings and he wasn't aware of any common gender role or how someone was expected to act, he never thought about their connection of something extraordinary or offside the norm, neither about Michaels behavior or features. No, he wasn't even sure what kind of connection was going on between them, little innocent Jason was left in the dark.

  
After their first little „meeting“ when they had that, thinking about it now, ridiculous fight some considerable suituations followed. Every time he thought about it, heat rose up into his cheeks. Absently remembering it now while walking around the lake, the familar heat returned. No matter how often Michael told him it was ok, natural and nothing to be embarassed about, his childish shame stayed put. He had been way too distracted when they had done _it_ the first time, the following times doing _it_ without a by anger headed up head, doubts and insecurity hit their nasty claws inside him. Not that Michael ever gave him a reason. While he was well aware of the condition his body was in and knew even before he had turned into a water-corpse, he never had been pretty. Michael seemed to not even note it. Well sure he noted it, but he never had said anything about it and if something was bothering him he was perfectly hiding it. On contrary, sometimes after they had played with each other Michael had spent quiet some time with closely inspecting and exploring certain parts of his body. Running his fingers carefully over the different textures of rotting flesh, exposed bones and some of the holes his body showed, Michael appeared highly fascinated by it. He was just like a little curious child wich had to, **HAD TO** , touch every foreign inch it could reach.

  
Making a stop and sitting down in the high grown grass at the lakes shore, meanwhile spring had stretched it's lifespending roots everywhere, Jason continued his spaculations. What kind of „ _relationship_ “ were they excactly having? They weren't only dudes, buddies or what ever two killers thrown into a situation like this could've been called, that was obvious, but neither was it something that could've been called love or qualified them as a couple or something like that. No, the little devil made it more than clear that what ever was going on between them was far, far away from love and that the construction of so called love anyhow was something society invented. Love as it was called could only exist between mother and child, he told him. And even then it was more likely the instinct to care for an offspring and keep it alive than this abstract emotion everybody claimed to be soooo important. He remembers Michael pacing up and down in front of him, he was sitting on the bed they first did _it_  in, enthusiastically performing his little speech with one arm foldet behind his back and the other gesturing with a raised index finger. Every time when he wanted to underline something he was saying, he waved the finger with vigor looking like a father who was telling his kid how to behave and that it wasn't allowed to lick on strangers. It was amusing how the little devil managed it to talk himself into a frenzy and Jason had a hard time to hold back his chuckles not wanting to interrupt the headed up speech or gain a „do you think this is a joke?!“- gaze from Michael.

  
On one point Jason agreed with him. It was the love can only exist between mother and child point. Not on the keeping an offspring alive on instict part, but very well on the love can only exist between mother and child part. Becaurse he was sure his mother had loved him truly and that it was a great ammount of love he felt and still is feeling for her.  
But what was it between them? Shifting his gaze over the lake with the sunlight beautifully glistening on it's smoothly moving surface, he tried to find a name for their connection. Or at least fitting words to describe it. Partnership? No, they weren't partners. A partner doesn't manipulates you to obey him. Well, maybe out in the world of the mortals they did, but they seriously shouldn't! Soulmates? And the same second the word pops up in his mind he has to frown, caurse using such a corny label would totally result in a deadly gaze by Michael with the „there are only three different feelings, anger, hate and desire“-opinion of his and maybe grant him another speech. Even though he knew very well Michael was able to feel much more than that, he never tried to push him too hard to admit it. As annoying as it could get to deal with someone denying the existence of far more emotions and always hid how he really felt, Jason understood that there were reasons for it. No matter how rude, tough or cold the little demon acted it was obvious that his behavior often was a protection mechanism. If you claim to have no significant feelings, nobody can hurt you, right?

  
Michael had called it pressure release. But it isn't as simple as that. It only would've been if one little detail would‘ve been missing and said little detail is their connection through their auras, energies or whatever you want to call it. Besides testing it out on a common level, like figuring out if they were able to track each other down and it occured they were or if they could do a proper conversation instead of only sending emotions through it, well he was sending emotions, it got to a way deeper and intenser level when they were spending time close to each other. Michael hasn't slipped a word about it, but he was sure he must feel it as well. And it seriously wasn't something that was easy to miss. He only had to barely touch Michael and immediately his energie jumped over like a spark, the other way around as well. When touching him more, like when he carried him to the cabin or when Michael seeked shelter at his shoulder the evening they sat at the fireplace, it was like waves washing through him. But when they did _it,_  by the way he had no clue how to call _it_ since they didn't went the full way at any time and he never learned the terms, it was like Michaels and his energies mixed and merged together until there was only one connected being left. After every time it merged together like this and seperated again the connection between them appeared stronger, clearer and more stabel.

  
Sitting there, enjoying the stronger getting warmth of the spring sun, Jason decided to rather remember how good it felt being connected and merged with Michael than splitting his head in half while trying to find a name for their relationship. Anyhow it was vainly, maybe there wasn't even a name for it. The best he managed to come up with in the end was „murderous buddies with privileges and coincidentally matching auras“. Only the sound of it speaking it out with his inner voice made his temples pulse with a nice buzzing headache, not even near to be satisfied with that description. No, not thinking about it anymore, time for something more pleasant.

  
Remembering the feeling of the devils energie clawing into his caursed the familar heat to rise up not only into his face but into his ears and scalp as well, making him feel like a dumbass and also grin like some stupid jerk and equally light headed. But who cares? The mask hides it and he is alone at the lake. Carrying said stupid grin paired with a dreamy gaze absently watching the lake, his thoughts continued wandering. He never had experienced a considerable feeling before like that that fills his whole being when their energies first collide into each other, then bite into each other like rabid dogs and in the end merge into a whole new being. It was like something had been missing the entier time and now finally has appeared to fill the gap, he wasn't even aware of.  
Though their energies were very different to say the least almost the exact opposide to each other, they fitted perfectly together and complememted each other.

Michaels was like wild fire. Burning and raging, filled up with fury and unchanneled power, literally devouring everything in it's reach. He was sure were it visible it would've been a bright glowing red, flickering and twitching all around Michael like flames. It would be an amazing special effect and totally suitable for the little devil. But the same time, when it was about to burn him entirely with it's furious heat and was tearing deep into his own energy like it was planning to rip it into pieces, it emitted such a comforting and caring warmth. No matter how violent and forcefull it crashed into his, it never harmed it or felt like danger. Visualizing their two energies interacting would've mostly looked like two wild animals playing with each other. Watching the szene everybody would say they were about to kill each other, but in truth it would've only been an innocent game using claws and teeth but never in a serious attempt to really injure the other.

  
His own one on contrary was way more cautious and controlled. Reaching out for and liquidly swirling around the other one, smoothly surrounding it like the cold water of the lake did with his body when he sank down into it's depth back then. It absorbed the heat and neatly embedded it deep into it's own, hiding and protecting it like a great treassure. Michaels hell fire literally fueled it. Answering the violent fusion with equally sharp claws digging deep into the other, but much calmer and without ripping and pulling it. It smoothly flooded into the raging flames, intruding the fire with it's cool presence until they mixed completely and became one. Obviously it was do able to mix fire and water, who would've guessed that?

  
Shoving his hands under his mask and rubbing his eyes, he tries to chase away the slight headache that spreads happily buzzing through his deformed skull. It was never good when he thought too much. His brain just wasn't the „hardly concentrating on something“-kind, more the „lets see what happenes and just react“-kind. Not like Michael. Oh no, his little demon was able to sit moveless and think about something or read books for hours and hours and hours…If Jason had to do the same, he would fall asleep at most after half an hour, he was sure. Michael had told him that this two activities were the only constantly available when he was arrested in the sanatorium. So, over the years he had mastered it to focus his mind for several hours on written or thought words, unable to do anything else to entertain himself.  
When Michael talked about the sanatorium, no matter how hard he tried to stay blank as a white sheet of paper, his voice carried a tiny undertone of sadness. It was impressing how good his skills worked to let him appear like a cold, not even a bit caring asshole without any feelings beyond his pride, but in contrast to most of the doctors Jason noticed all of the almost not senseable changes in his voice and body language. A tiny twitch in the pitch of his voice, an only fractions of seconds lasting shifting of his gaze, the way his shoulders stiffened and his hands clenched almost invisibly, Jason saw it all. He maybe isn't good in thinking everything through into it's tiniest details, but he is deffinately very skilled in watching, listening and judging.

  
Though Michael was a maniac who killed most of his family and every other unfortunate human who was stupid enough to get into his way, Jasons heart sank when he imagined him locked up and isolated in his cell. Sure, in the eyes of the mortals Michael had more than deserved to get locked up and isolated the most of his time, but that wasn't the eyes he saw him with. While the most people wished Michael a death penalty, his eyes were able to see the reasons, to understand his actions and to sympathize with him. Heck, they were almost of the same kind after all. Totally out of the norms and rules of mortal society and not bound to any of their clever little laws or morality. What ever had happened to send Michael to the camp, Jason was greateful for it. Yes, they were trapped here and Michael wasn't able to go to Haddonfield to perform his disered killing spree, but at least he was now able to roam free on the camps grounds instead of being locked up and he wasn't forced by the doctors anymore to cooperate with them or drugged by them. The fact that Jason had bonded with the bad twin of luzifer and finally had met someone like him of course was a huge bonus!

  
When he hears the noise of flapping wings, Jason glances up rudely ripped out of his, for him, great ammount of thoughts. A big owl is flying wide circles over the lake, it's feathers covered in a neatly pattern of different shades of grey and brown. It's wings appear to have at least a span of four feet and it's shiny yellow eyes and beak stand prominently out of the earth-toned feathers. The big bird lands on a low hanging branch on the other side of the lake and gives a screeching scream into Jasons direction, spreading it's wings wide one more time. While the forest around the camp served as a home for a big population of different kinds of birds and the shouts of several owls can be heared at night, Jason is pretty sure it's the same owl he saw the night when Michael sleepwalked. It's not that he is able to distinguish the owls from each other, but that one seemes to follow them. He saw it sitting on a near standing tree next to the cabin several times at night, one time it even landed on the windowswill outside, almost giving him a heartattack when he walked in not expecting a pair of huge yellow eyes staring at him through the glas. They saw it when they roamed the camps grounds together and Michael claimed to have seen it every time when he took a time out hiding on the roof of the cabin, no matter how often Jason warned him the roof was too unstable and not save to walk around or sit on. And now it was watching him from the distance, during bright daytime.

\-----------------

Looking up from the book he is reading, comfortably cuddeled into a blanket and settled in the chair at the terrace door like a cat in it's basket, he's not sure what to answer. After spending hours in silence since Jason arrived back at the cabin, barely looking at each other and he continued reading about how to act when you get lost in the wilderness, suddenly the grumbling voice of his big buddy askes him how he‘s feeling. Immediately a curious eyebrow rises under his mask and trying to sound as casual as possible he answers after a long moment of calculating what the big guy might be up to: „A little bored.“. Fast adding a sceptical loaded „Why?“, because he knows exactly how this goes.

  
After spending the most time of his life with sneaky little doctors wich tried to manipulate and trick him into talking about his emotions or motivation for killing his family members, he is well aware that questions like this one are rarely asked without second thoughts. On contrary, exactly the question „How do you feel?“ is the mother of all questions used to start boring and digging for informations. It sounds like a nice inquiry, but in truth it's a nasty little trick to make the counterpart think that somebody cares for it's condition. Only to make it comfortable enough to be able to lure it into babbling about feelings, emotions, secretes, daddy had never hugged me and nonsens like this.

  
„Hmm… maybe anywhere at the other cabins are more entertaining books.“

  
„Oh don't worry. How should I live on without the worthfully knowledge of how to filter my own urin to avoid dehydration when no fresh water is available?“, pitching his voice and turning the book, he waves it to Jason with a bright gaze. The big guy isn't good in understanding sarcasm , but his slightly amused snarl hints that he got that one.

  
„Ah, yeah that's truly an important information. However…“, clearing his throat Jason keeps on, „…I meant how do you feel in general?“

  
And there it was. „About what?“, Michael straightens up, exiting his comfortably blanket cocoon and swings his legs out of their former crossed position down from the chair. _Surprise, surprise_ …, he thinks while a smug smile plays along his lips and while positioning his legs fully stretched out slightly crossed at the ankles he leans an elbow on one armrest and nestles his head into his palm. Giving Jason a questioning look waiting for him to go on.

  
Watching the graceful moves of the smooth body, even when only doing something ordinary like straightening up in a chair it lookes like performing a fine dance and feeling the intense gaze of the black eyes fixating him, Jason suddenly feels the burning urge to closely inspect his fingernails. Mumbling under his nose: „Nothing special I guess…just about umm everything.“. Hesitantely glancing up from under his brows he sees Michaels body switch into another position. Placing his bare feet on the floor and leaning his arms onto his knees the cat-like demon bends down a little. With his eyes looking even closer at him now and his body slightly lowered, he looks like a big feline just about to jump onto it's prey and currently that would be Jason.

  
„Come on big boy, what if you stop beating about the bush and just ask what you wanted to ask in the first place?“, Michaels voice tells him chuckling knowingly and dark. His gaze feels like burning holes into him and Jason is sure if Michael were a police officer he could bring every single of his suspects to confess everything right away without even asking what was accused, only by looking at them. God, even to confess things they hadn't committed. He would just sit there, staring at them with this unbeliveably intense and groundless pair of pits, like he is doing it with him right now and they would sing like canaries. Without any doubts Michael would be very popular and would earn good money.

  
Already nervously picking around on his fingernails instead of only inspecting them very closely, Jason pushes himself to mutter some more muffled words: „About…I don't know…our errr connection?“. And while watching and listening how Jason struggles, how his voice trembles and how his nervousness rises by every passing second, Michael must admit that it is slightly entertaining to push someone until he spits out what you want to know. Even when it's as easy as it is with Jason. Maybe that's why the docs are so effortful in their tries to bring someone to talk.  
„How should I feel about it?“, he askes in an innocent tone, tilting his head and giving a surprised glance. Yes, it's fun to play around with Jason, but when the big guys head snaps up, a deep growl rumbles across the room and he shoots him an „are you fucking kidding me?!“-look, Michael holds up his hands in defence and laughes: „Ok, ok no need to snap big buddy…“.

  
„...but seriously how should I feel about it? It's as new for me as it is for you.“, he stands up an walkes over to one of the couches across the living area Jason is sitting on. Setteling in on the soft furniture he crosses his legs and runs two teasing fingers over Jasons nape, slightly scretching the rotten skin while his other arm leanes onto the armrest his head resting in his hand. Smiling amusedly he watches a shiver run through Jasons body. It's nice how communicative he is without even saying a single word. Jason has his arms leaning on his knees, upperbody bend over with his hands loosly foldet and gives a weak huff in response. What's happening right now is one of Michaels sneaky ways to shut him up and wiggeling out of the danger of answering his questions. Letting his slender fingers trace up and done the well perceptible spine under the layers of dark clothes, Michael is just about to dive his hand under said layers to explore the structure of the exposed bones, wich by the way fascinates him greatly, when Jasons voice rumbles: „Can't you feel it?“.

  
„What?“, he askes absently letting his fingers climb up on the salient vortexes.

  
Turning around to face him and ignoring the disagreeing noise Michael exhales caurse his hand gets out of reach from the interesting spine, _nice try but not this time you little, wicked seducer_ , Jason places one big hand flat in the middel of Michaels chest. „This.“, he quietly states while he already is clearly able to feel the greedy attention of the others energie. It's impossible that Michael can't feel it, but the little demon only looks down at the hand resting on his chest and up again to find the blue eyes and gives him a puzzled look.

  
„Your hand? Sure, cold as a corpse as always.“

  
„I don't mean my hand…“, Jason hisses low, unable to hide an impatient undertone from his voice and also unable to hold back a tired eyeroll.  
Chuckling to himself Michael grabs said cold hand and smoothly shoves it away from his chest. „I know what you mean Sigmund Freud, but what do you expect me to answer? That it feels good, yes it does. That I enjoy it? I do, but I won't say any of the slushy shit you want to hear. I told you my emotions are quiet limited.“

  
With slight annoyence rising up in him Jason turns again rubbing his temples with his thumbs. The last few month he had tried several times to get through Michaels walls of deffence, but they obviously were made out of the worlds strongest material. And that obviously was selfdefence. Folding his arms in front of his chest he flops back against the back of the couch. „Oh come on, there has to be more than you claim to be. Nobody has only three different emotions unless you are a rock and by the way,“ he turnes his head giving Michael a knowing look, „I am at least aware of one more. Sadness, remember? I told you I was able to feel it.“

  
„You sure? Maybe I just wanted you to think I was sad.“

  
„Why should you do that?“

  
Slowly climbing onto Jasons lap, movements fluid and full of callculated precision, Michael runs his hands over the broad shoulders down to the firmly folded arms and back. „Maybe because I wanted you to take me into your strong arms, allowing me to be close to you…“, he purrs playfully. The low incredulous chuckly Jason gives vibrates through his whole body and while said strong arms hesitantely unfold under the adoring strokes and lay around Michaels back pulling him in closer, Jason mumbles: „How maleficent of you… But seriously, you don't have to hold all your wards up. I'm not one of your doctors…“. Shit, what was it? Not this time?

  
„I'm a psychopath you know…“, Michael starts in a chatty manner, pushing up his mask just enough to bend down and place a line of light kisses and teasing bites from Jasons collarbone up to his jawline, „You know the defination of a psychopath?“, he askes voice muffled against rotten skin and while Jason is already distrected enough to stop with trying to squeez deeper emotions out of him, Michael begins to quote, his hot breath brushes against the cold skin, planting more kisses and bites.

  
„ _Psychopath, a person with a psychotic personality, which manifests as amoral and antisocial behavior, lack of ability to love or establish meaningful personal relationships…_ “, warm hands start to dive under Jasons shirt and Michael continues, „ ... _extreme egocentricity, failure to learn from experience…_ “ He's just about to teasingly nip at Jasons earlope and to push his hands up to the wide chest with it's, in his eyes beautiful scars, when suddenly the arms that had been holding him close are grabbing both of his upper arms tight and the body under him stiffens but not in a fun way. Looking up in surprise Michael sees the actually always soft blue eyes staring strictly into nothing. „Jay?“, he whispers giving Jason a slight pat onto his stomach. Not returning his searching gaze the low voice tells him in a monotone pitch: „They're here.“.

  
„Who?“, confused Michael turns his head from side to side scanning the empty room around them while his hands keep on slowly sneaking up. Instead of an answer he gains a free flight from the comfortable lap he had possessed and lands with a loud thud, ass first onto the hard wooden floor. The same second an unusual fast moving Jason rushes out of the front door. „Jason!“, he shouts, but his big buddy has already vanished into a cloud of dust. Standing up, adjusting his mask and rubbing his lower back and backside, he wonders what the actual heck has just happened. Did someone said the codeword? Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned that he felt a little bit bored earlier, he thinks when he starts to curiously follow Jason out into the darkening forest.


	8. Buttercup

About twenty minutes ago he was comfortably settled down on Jasons lap, his tighs firmly drapped around the big guys lower body, his hands tenderly roaming the quiet muscular torso while his lips and teeth were busy with teasingly kissing and nipping at the cold skin. And now? Now he's in the middel of a freaking slaughter feast! Blood splattering, voices screaming in pure terror and already two out of six down. One fine and neatly beheaded the other has an unnaturally overstreched spine looking like some weird kind of human pretzel. The remaining four are running around like startled chickens and equally screeching like chickens while he watches the scenery in awe.   
Standing at the other side of a small glade with a camp fire at it’s middle, Jason watches the four running for their lifes, blood heroically decorating his broad figure completing the look of a warrior on the battlefield. Michael already had hurtfully experienced the giant in action, but it is something quiet different to actually watch him from a bystander view. The way his killer instinct completely takes him over, the force and power with wich he literally smashed the two mortals, the massive strength with wich his machete strikes… The little mortals had absolutely no itsy bitsy tiny bit of a chance to get away without lethal damage. If Michael ever had adored a view, it was this breathtaking one! Jason in maniac-killer mode, showered in blood, illuminated by the small campfire in front of him, a black wall of trees at his back, standing there in all his terrifying pride, huffing and puffing like a challanged fighting bull in the arena. That really was something he deffinately would inculcate with every single stunning detail and store it into the _things that managed to impress me-_ section of his brain. This sections by the way already contained Jason because of his really impressing and to say so outstanding _size_...

  
Caught up into fascination and completely mesmerized, Michael hadn't noticed that his body took some automatically steps forward the middle of the glade, pulled in by the power of his adoreation. An annoyingly screaming female with a voice able to turn someone deaf for several hours that bumbs into him brings him back to the here and now. With full speed she crashes into him and is immediately thrown back hard with the full force of the impact. While Michael only stumbles back one or two steps, she is meeting the ground with the sound of at least one breacking wrist. Slightly tipping his head down he watches her hectically shifting backwards in the dirt with an expression on her face worth to be nominated for the best-terrified-actress-aword. Her mouth equally wide open as her terrorized staring brown eyes, she still screams shrill and is just about to hit hights only dogs would be able to hear anymore. But to be honest, the sound of pure fear was in the top three of his favorite sounds. Right next to the sound his knifes make when he stabs them into a nice soft body and the rattling sound of rain falling onto a sheet metal roof. Weakly shifting away from the totally still standing and only watching Michael, her screaming suddenly hitches when her left hand touches the tip of a boot instead of the dirt she's crawling in. Her head snatches up and her terrified gaze catches Jason standing right behind her and yes, now she's hitting the highs only dogs can hear. Mouth still wide open, framed by beautifully red painted lips, only hisses manage the way out of her throat.  
„She's a hell of a screamer.“, Michael states low and cautious. Only lifting his gaze up from under his brows to look at Jason who's staring right down, fixating the hysterical chick between them. His usualy blue angel eyes seem to be almost completely black now. The fully widened pupils are repressing the rich blue and letting them resemble to the eyes of a preditor on the hunt. It's not like Michael would be scared or something, but with an immortal and blood thursty lake spirit in slasher-mode level 10.000+, better be careful than regretful. He doesn't expects Jason to attack him, but who in hell knows what's going on in the depths of the big guys brain when triggert into bloodlust.

  
When the huge pupils rise up and catch Michaels gaze, the response to his comment is a deep vibrating grunt sounding like a grizzly trying to talk. Holding eyecontact for long seeming seconds, Michael feels like he's almost able to touch the tension Jasons energie is carrying to him. While they only stare into each others eyes, completely ignoring the squirming and desperately whining girl on the ground between their boots, their energies start to communicate lively. This time it's Jasons energie wich seems to flicker and twitch, shooting dancing sparks all around. A majestic blue fire, burning with massive heat, devouring and melting Michaels energie and letting a shiver run through his body from head to toe.

  
The wordless interaction ends, when the handle of the machete is turned to him. Jason keeps his eyes on him while he looks at it in confusion. Then it hits him. Crap! He forgot his knifes at the cabin, totally distrected by the big guy first throwing him rudely on the floor, he‘ll deffinately get him for that, and then out of the blue giving a hell of a start, leaving him puzzled. Especially now when the paranoia of the camps guardian comes true! But at least he had remembered to put on his boots… After curiously staring at the offered weapon, Michael shifts his gaze back to Jason giving him a quizzing look while his fingers carefully run over the handle. A second way lower and calmer grunt vibrates in the big guys throat when the slender hand slowly grabs the machete.  
Weighting it in his right hand and stretching his arm wide out ballancing the foreign blade in his grip, Michael conversationally states: „It's heavy. Sits comfortably in the hand, but heavy.“.

  
„Well, in contrast to your preferred toothpicks this is a toy the big boys play with.“, Jason answeres hoarsely, speacking the first sentence since he dashed out into the forest and slaughtered two of the humans. Without looking, he moves one step to the left, avoiding that the now in panic crying girl crawls away from them.  
„Oh, fuck you!“, Michael gives him a punch to the shoulder, his wide grin audibal in his voice, while Jason chuckles low and grabs the girl by her long blonde hair rudely pulling her up. Her feet are only barely touching the ground now and no matter how much she squirms, fidgets and screams Jason holds her firmly, pulling her head back and arching her back, completely displaying her to Michael. It's a tempting offer, Michael can't resist. The flicker of madness is only visible for a blink of an eye in the dark orbs of his little devil before he raises the machete, grabs it with both hands, blade pointing down and rams it forcefully into the offered victim. Splatters of rich red blood are landing on both of their masks and with for Michael surprisingly ease the blade cuts through her body. The smell of the blood floots his senses, triggering the beast that's slowly surfacing. Cutting farther the screaming vanishes into a gagging noise when the blade tears her in half from the middle of her chest down between her squirming long and quiet nice looking legs. A pool of blood and guts splashes to the ground giving a squishy noise, her extremities getting limp but keep on twitching like a fish out of the water. When Jason opens his fist and nods satisfiedly, her body falls lifeless to the ground with a dull thud, landing on it's own insides. Three down, three to kill.

  
„Fucking hell, I like to play with the big boys toys!“, Michael booms slightly out of breath caursed by his rising excietmemt. Eyes sparkeling with an insane kind of joy, he feels his head getting light and blurry. When was the last time he had killed someone? Ah pffft, who cares?! He's back in business and by all demons it's awesome!

\-----------------

Before they had seperated, Michael had asked him if he thought the other three had managed to escape from the camps grounds. As far as he was concerned, the lakes actions weren't necessarily imterfering with the mortals, so they theoretically should‘ve been able to cross the border without any problems. He told Michael though he doesn't thinks they had crossed the border becaurse a) he still was able to feel their presences, b) while fleeing in panic the forest could literally turn into a maze, c) they deffinately would trip over something and d) sometimes they were even stupid enough to come back looking for their friends. But the best information was that they were fleeing into the wrong direction. Panic is a funny thing. Important for survival, but also a tricky little bastard blinding the senses. Hearing the good news caursed an immense boost of the demons ambition, enjoying their hunt with every cell of his body. It was delightful to see him like that. Energetic, focused, using his skills and experience while he moves through the forest like a deadly shadow. Taking his machete back before they seperated to circle their prey from two sides, resulted in slight protest and a short, but stern disscusion of who was the actual owner of the blade and why the other had to give it back. Of course it was Jason, not even his little devil would get his beloved machete longer than for a few moments. Though Michael at first was more than disagreeing with giving it back, Jason was sure and also told him, that even only with his bare hands Michael was one hundred percent lethal.

  
Following the track the mortals presences left, he can feel Michael moving a few yards away from him. He's moving fast and Jason is struggeling to keep up with him. His legs are equally long, but as the king of clumsyness he has to be more aware not to trip over or run into something. Sometimes he wondered how it was possible that Michael, almost the same height and weight as himself, was able to move like a freaking assassin from a secret agency. As much effort as it takes to keep up, he appreciates the happyness Michaels energie is emitting. Coming nearer to the camps cabins, Jason is sure their prey is hiding in one of the first ones. Informing Michael through their connection by letting him feel their presences in the first cabin on the left side of the camp too, he circles it carefull trying to catch a glimbs through one of the windows. They are not stupid enough to leave their flashlights shining, that's way smarter than some of the former mortals acted, but light or not he can sense them in there and can hear them whisper. Obvioulsy they're trying to call the police with their cellphones. Well, nice try, but the moment they stepped on the camps grounds their phones had lost any cell reception. It may be quiet lonely and dreary out there some times, but it sure had it's advantages too to be localised far away from any civilisation.

  
He meets Michael when he reaches the backside of the cabin. In the shadow of the building the other slashers eyes are almost glowing in excietement. He's breathing deep and fast becaurse of his ninja run through the forest, but deffinately seems to be more than ready to let his murderous side break lose. Communicating in silence they decide that Jason takes to frontdoor while Michael goes in through the backdoor. And of course, Michael can't hold back a dirty comment about the term _backdoor_. Rolling his eyes, Jason rushes lowered back to the front of the cabin. Being in sync becaurse of their connection is a nice thing and truly increases the surprising effect when both of them kick in the doors the same second. It’s too dark to see much details, but the screaming when they burst in surely can be heared miles away. For a short moment chaos breaks lose. Silhouettes are criss crossing through the room, the shifting and rumbling of footsteps on the wodden floor fills the air joined by low growls, screamed names and desperateful shouting. One male manages to slip past Jason and dashes out of the crushed front door while he catches a wiggling and screaming female. Grabbing her violently by her throat he looks past her and watches out for Michael. Not that he would be afraid the little devil is in trouble or the other men managed to escape. Well, maybe a little bit, but he's more than thrilled when he spots Micheal and his victim. The demon is pinning the men down, sitting on top of him with his knees pushed down on the others chest and hammers the guys head with both of his hands clawed around it, thumbs digging into the eye sockets, forcefully onto the wodden floor, drumming a nice beat.  
When the girl tries to losen his grip around her neck, grabbing his hand in an attempt to peel of his fingers from her throat, Jason is pulled back out of his admiration for Michael and his fanzy drum solo. He stabs his machete into her body right under her sternum, pushing it in inch by inch until it exits on the other side between her sholder blades, doing short work . Tilting his head he watches her squirming and gagging while her blood drips onto the floor with quiet thuds and rins down the handle of the machete, flowing over his hand. What is it about mortals that they only get bearable when they're dying?   
When the last jerking movements vanish and her body limply hangs down, impaled like a marshmallow over a fire, he lowers the blade and lets the corpse nonchalantly slide off of it. Michael still is drumming, but now the beat makes squishy noises like he's beating the shit out of a bowl of jello. Turning towards him, noticing that there is nothing left that would be quallified to be called _head,_ he steps a little closer. „I guess he's dead now.“.

_You don't say, Einstein_ , mentally rolling his eyes and pusching his hands flat down into the puddle of blood, flesh, bone fragments, hair and mashed brain mass, Micheal leans onto his arms slightly out of breath. After taking in some deep breaths, it's quiet exhausting to destroy someones head like this, he looks up and answers: „Yeah…I guess **you** are right. Would be much more fun if they were a little bit more resistant.“

  
„There's still one left.“, Jason states grinning, proclaiming that the fun isn't over yet.  
For one second mischief flickers up in Michaels dark eyes. The next second the elegant body jumps up, dashes with full speed past Jason to the frontdoor, who has problems to turn around as fast as Michael passes him, and shouts over his shoulder: „Bet who gets him first!“. Standing there puzzled, Jason only stares at the hole in the wall where the frontdoor had been before a wide grin stretches over his face. Shaking his head and chuckling to himself, he runs out of the cabin too, following Michaels energie wich is already a slight distance away.

\-----------------

„Whoohoo, come on, gallop buttercup!“  
Jumping on Jasons back and clasping his middle firmly with his tighs, Michael cheers and rapturous waves an imaginary cowboy hat. Poking _buttercup_ with his heels, he underlines his command. A snarl is all Jason gives in response not planning to walk a single step. „I know you've beaten me, but I won't, deffinately won't gallop.“, he hisses when Michaels tighs contract around his middel, impatiently asking him to start moving. Bending over meeting Jasons eyes with his head upside down, it doesn't matters that Michaels face is hidden, the smug grin plastered to it is even visible in his gaze. „Damn right, I've beaten you and now I'll piggyback ride you back to the cabin to demonstrate my triumph over you!“, Michael says in a matter of fact tone still poking his heels into Jasons flanks.

  
„Don't be so smug. You won becaurse I've allowed you to hunt him down and win…“, he taps Michaels forehead with one pointy finger ignoring the sassy huff the smug little fucker gives him, „…and by the way, before we can return to the cabin we have to get rid of the bodies.“.

„Hmm what do you plan to do with them?“

  
„Usually I dump them into the lake, giving it it's fair chare.“  
Humming in agreement, Micheal positions himself back onto Jasons back and lays his arms around the thick neck. „Good. Let's go then, **wo hi**!.“, he shouts brightly, his voice clearly carrying the effect of adrenaline and endorphins. When Jason turns his head just enough to give him a side-glance, pure irritation is shown in the blue eyes. _Buttercup_ obviously is not amused! „You don't really think I‘ll let you ride on my back while we collect the bodies and bring them to the lake, do you?“, Jason asks, pitching a _you must be loony_  -tone.

  
„As far as I can judge the situation, it seems like you lost against me and as far as I remember, you were the one shouting: _If you get him first you can piggyback ride me like a pony!_  Soooo…“ placing in a dramatic pause, „…it appears that you have no other choice than to be a well behaved pony and carry me on your back as long as I want to.“  
And as unpleasent, humiliating and ridiculous it is, Michael is right, he had said that. He had said Michael could ride him like a pony if he wins, the sensation of their hunt had losened his big, stupid mouth and now he is screwed. What was he thinking?? Nothing, he thought nothing and his silly mouth took it's chance to give him some deep shit to deal with. Exhaling the mother of all annoyed sighs when Michael repeats his command to start galloping, he regrets it bitterly to have said something like this without thinking it through. After shouting it he had thought or better hoped it would be too ridiculous even for Michael, but he had deeply underestimated his little, evil devil. _What have I done to deserve something like this?_ , he askes himself, pissed about his own dumbness while his legs reluctantly start to move.

  
Until all six corpses are dumped in the lake, Jason had a tiny bit of hope left that Michael would get tired of his reward for beating him. Now, throwing the last body into the lake, avoiding to get in contact with the splashing water, his hope had cruely and miserably died and left behind a highly amused Michael glued to his back. His rider is giggling and chuckling like a little girl and had enjoyed the whole stupid action to it's fullest. Fortunately he had no saddle, spores, whip and snaffle. Jumping down from his back and patting his head in a slightly too rude manner, Michael praises him: „Goooood pony! You want a sugar cube?“. The glare he gives him in response says nothing less than **_go fuck yourself_**  when Jason heads off into the direction the little camp fire was placed. „Oh, come on big buddy don't be sulky!“, Michaels shouts after him, spurting to keep up with him.

Arriving at the camp fire, Jason begins to gather all items the mortals had left. Without a word he tosses the junk into the flames and watches it burn, ignoring Michael who is jumping all around him like a bouncing ball filled up with way too much caffein.   
„You are mad at me.“, the in high spirits demon says, dancing around Jason giving him dogs eyes paired with a hidden, but audibal pout.   
„No, not mad. You're only mercilessly sawing on my last nerve wich I hoped would last until the lake changes it's mind and lets you leave the camp.“ And that was the absolut truth. Well, the first part. Mad would meen Michael had done something wrong, but besides riding on his back what technically wasn't wrong, only unbelievable annoying and humiliating, his little devil had done nothing else than to follow his instincts and be his usually smug, cocky and teasing self. Now, acting like a toddler after eating two pounds of pure sugar deffinately wasn't helping on the nerve thing. Jason of course was familar with the rush of endorphins flooting the brain while killing and falling into bloodlust, but it never had been so intense like it seems Michael now is experiencing it. It would be totally legit to say he is literally drunk on blood. Maybe it was a little bit too much at once after long and boring years of captivity.

  
„Oh Jay, admit it. You would be heart broken when I would leave the camp and you would infinitely miss me!“, the nuisance states smug as he is, jumping up on a dead tree trunk and balancing on it.   
While Jason is getting surer and surer that Michael is some kind of punishment for something he had done wrong, though he doesn't knows what but it must be something very serious, he rubs his eyes, feeling his own excitement vanishing completely now and tiredness taking it's place. „Can you please stop being a tornado of annoyence for a while and try to calm down a little? I know it was your first time since forever and you're wound up and feeling high as a kite, but it gets harder and harder to not tie you up and also tie you to a tree.“, he says suppressing a yawn and slowly heading to the trunk Michael is balancing up and down like a tightrope walker, arms spread wide. Letting his body heavily fall down onto the dead wood, the yawn manages to crawl out of him. It's nice to have some fun with some little stupid mortals, but it also is exhausting. It's easy as breathing as long as adrenaline rushes through his vains, but after that phase he could collapse immediately and fall into a coma like sleep.

  
„Are you tired grandpa?“, Michael asks chuckling cocky, patting his shoulder and settling down on the ground leaning his back against the trunk. _Grandpa_ , Jason mimics him in his mind, well aware that he really is quiet older than Michael. „Not everybody can be as hyperactive as you are.“, he mumbles sliding down the trunk to sit on the ground next to Michael who raises his hands and shakes them hectically visualizing his restlessness in a mocking manner.

\-----------------

  
After spending a while in silence at the quietly crackling fire, both of them switched into slightly comfortabler positions. Jason, relieved that Michael really calmed down as he asked him to and slightly surprised that he gave no dirty comment about the _tie you up-_ threat, is now half laying, his head with one arm folded under it leaning on the trunk. Legs fully stretched out and plastered to his side lays his demon cuddled up under his other arm. Eyes closed and dozing, his hand absently strokes through the fuzzy hair. Every time it stops when he starts to slide into deeper sleep, Michael gives a little grunt asking him to continue.

  
„It's nice.“, Michaels smooth voice suddenly whispers. Lifting his head a little Jason grumbles: „What?“, irritated by the sudden sentence out of the blue. „I said it's nice. You should get a hearing aid, pops!“, his devil snarls not so smoothly anymore. Also lifting his head Michael meets the still clueless gazing blue eyes. „Hey! No need to get snappy…I just couldn't hear what you've said, caurse I was about to fall asleep…“ rubbing his deformed eye Jason tries to defend himself, „... So, what is nice?“. Groaning Michael hits his forehead onto Jasons chest. Sometimes the big guy really could be slow, very slow, like a snail. A half dead snail.

  
„This. This is nice.“, he starts drawing circles in the air between them, „ **This**. **Here**. **Now**. Laying here with you and I can't believe you made me say that out loud only becaurse you're just thick as a brick and are slowly but steadily turning deaf! Maybe I should draw you a picture to make you get it.“, he hisses the second half through clenched teeth. Jesus christ on a motorbike, how can anybodys mind be so cumbersome?!

  
„Sorry“, Jason chuckles decently amused by his demons returned short temper, „I'm really tired.“. His hand again runs through the fuzzy bown hair while Michael sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes at him. He strokes over the rough surface of Jasons masks and turns his gaze back to the tired blue eyes. „Maybe instead of drawing you a picture, I should just show you…“, he breathes sliding up a little bit to lay halfway on top of Jason. The tired eyes are giving him a questioning look in return, yap it really seems to be sleeping time for his big buddy.

  
After shoving his own mask up to reveal his lips, a tight grip clamps around his wrist when he's about to do the same with Jasons mask. „Don't…“, the low voice whispers, the former tired eyes now staring wide at him, fully awake. It's fear what's reflecting in them, honest and pure fear. Letting his fingers trace the edge of the mask, Michael soothingly purrs: „Don't worry, I'll won't take it off completely only lift it a little.“. But the grip on his hand doesn't allows him to do as he has planned to. Knitting his brows, he gives Jason a searching look. „I…You wouldn't like my face…“, Jason answeres his searching gaze. Sure, he had seen the lower part of Michaels face quiet a few times in certain situations, but showing off his own deformed and wracked face? No, absolutely nothing he would enjoy to do.

  
„You know that I'm well aware of the fact that your face matches the rest of your body, do you? And since I studied your body closely, there's no need to be shy.“, Michael tries to convince him, letting his voice sound as soft as he's able to. It doesn't fits his attitude, but he knows quiet well how insecure Jason feels specially about his face and head, so he would never force him to take off or lift his mask. Not even he is such an enormous asshole. But he has to admit that he often wondered about the face beneath the mask and tried to imagin how it might look. Yes, he was quiet curious, but not enough of an asshole, if Jason doesn't wants to, he wouldn't push him. Well, not too hard. But no one said he can't try to fight with dirty weapons.

  
When Jason doesn't answers him and instead only keeps on looking like a lamp led to the slaughter, he brushes his lips over his chin. Nipping up the tightly clenched jawline, Michael makes his way to the still blood splattered mask. „I want to kiss you…“, he whispers placing a light kiss onto the bloody surface, „Isn't it rediculous that we did far naughtier things, but still haven't kissed even one time?“. Pulling back just enough to look into Jasons eyes, his fingers start another try to push up the mask. The innocent blue eyes are narrowed uptight carrying a pained expression, brows knitted strainly and the grip on his wrist still is thight like a handcuff. Maybe he should stop…maybe… Pushing against the firm grip again, his gaze stays glued to the sorrowful eyes. And the defence starts to crumble. Slowly, very slowly Jasons hand allows him to shove the mask up millimeter by millimeter. Letting his gaze only shift when the mask is pushed over Jasons eyes, hiding their fearful expression, Michael humms low trying to sound reassuring.

  
Letting his eyes wander, he takes in every detail well aware that this could be a rare or maybe even one time chance to burn it into his mind. Of course the skin is equally rotten like it is on the rest of the body, he hadn't expected anything else. Chin and jawline are virile, showing of the jawbone at some areas. It's light color stands in a decent contrast with the darker greyish rotten skin. Letting his fingertips lightly and carefully brush over Jasons upper lip, his gaze first pays attention to the part where a quiet big part of the big guys lower lip is missing. It looks like it got violently ripped out, showing of his teeth from wich some are also missing, toothflesh and more of his jawbone. The remaining part of the lower lip is plump and oh so soft when his fingertips reach and brush it. „Absolutely no need to be shy, Jay.“, he absently murmurs when Jason clenches his jaw even tighter insecure about Michaels silence.

  
Leaning in closer, close enough to breath in Jasons breath, Michael hesitates only for a blink of an eye before his lips lay opon their cold counterpart. _Does he know how to kiss?_ , he askes himself when he feels Jason tense under him. _Unlikely_ …but it feels too good to pull away and ask him. Instead Michael tenderly caresses the cold lips, softly asking them to answer. It takes some time, but after a while Jasons jaw relaxes a little and his lips start to push against Michaels. Giving low and vibrating sighs Jason seems to begin to enjoy his first kiss. Placing one hand in Michaels neck while his other arm sneakes around the little of his devils back, he pulls him in closer. Kissing obviously is something his big boy enjoys. Smiling into their kiss, a little a satisfied chuckle escapes Michaels lips, pushing his body even closer to Jason, he deepens their soft and slow kissing.  
Can that night get any better?

 

 


	9. The Grand Dame of all frights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading my mess so far and even leaving comments, kudos and a bookmark! *___* :*

It's still early in the morning when Jason gets waked by strange noises. Blinking his eyes, he asks himself how long he had possibly slept. It was in the middle of the night when he and Michael returned to the cabin, maybe around two. Though his brain refuses to count, he guesses he slept three hours maximum. It took the both of them quiet a while to separate themself out of their tight embrace filled with the sweetest kisses he could imagine. He had never experienced and honestly not thought that he ever would, such a sensation. When Michaels and his lips touched it felt like a million little spiders were running up and down his body while the same time his head got lighter than a helium balloon. Never had he adored another being so much. Though it was his first time, he was sure Michael was very talented and he could've kept on laying there and kissing the whole night, hadn't his little devil sometime insisted to go back. Remembering it, still half asleep, a huge smile stretches over his face and he can feel the spiders running over him again, until the noises are interrupting his thoughts. The rustling of bedsheets and some kind of desperate whining from across the room. When his sleep drunken brain finally gets what the sorce of the noises is, his eyes fly open and he's out of his bed so fast his legs almost give in by the abrupt start. Stumbling over to the second bed in the room, trying not to fall flat on his face, he leans one knee on the matress his hands busy with trying to catch Michaels arms wich he his rapidly throwing around himself. Eyes firmly squeezed shut, Michael fidgets and his desperate whining changes into deep aggressive growling and back. Whatever he’s dreaming about it must be a terrible nightmare.

Catching a hold around both of Michaels wrists, Jason tries to wake him carefully, quietly calling his name. But nothing. His eyes stay shut, the squirming keeps on and his growls and whines are joined by almost not audibal breathed „ _No's_ “. The pale skin is covered in a film of cold sweat and trying it with calling his name in a deep rumbling voice doesn't wakes him up as well. Helplessly and not knowing what else to do, Jason grabs both wrists with one hand, the other strokes through Micheals hair while he whispers reassuringly phrases. Maybe Michael can feel or hear him or at least feel his energy while stucked into the dream. Suddenly Michael is still. He stops moving and doesn't makes any noises anymore. Lifting his head to check if he woke up, Jason hesitantely lets go of the wrists he had grabbed maybe a little bit too firm. It sure will bruise the coming day. „Michael?“, he whispers, but receives no answer. Indeed Michael is still, too still. Panic grabs Jason and one hand darts up to Michaels chest, laying down and lurking. _Did he stopped breathing?_

\----------------

Voices are mumbling things he can't understand. They sound like they're far away and every time his eyes open a tiny bit, he's blended by unpleasent dazzling light. He frowns when the smell of desinfectant hits his nose. What the hell is Jason doing with desinfectant in their bedroom, who is he talking to and why the heck is it so bright?! Trying to cover his eyes with his hands results in an unexpected tuck on something that's tightly wrapped around his wrists. Turning around also isn't possible as well as pulling his legs up. Did King Weirdo tied him to the bed? If he did, he will wish he hadn't! And what the actual fuck is he planning with blending him and the desinfectant?? Frowning deeper not only becaurse of the smell and light, but also becaurse a mix of annoyence and confusion slowly rises in him, Michael tries again to see something, lifting his head slightly. Tilting it to the side as far as possible, he narrows his eyes into thin slids. Looking like someone who forgot to put his glasses on and tries to identify something really tiny, his vision is blurry, but he manages to make out four figures standing beside the bed. None of them is matching Jasons broad frame and the familar liquid hug of his energy isn't perceptible anywhere. The figures are seemingly talking to each other in low voices, moving slowly. What the…

Then it strucks him like a lightning! It shoots through his body, riding over is nerves, burning them and lets every muscle tense. Eyes torn open as wide as possible, though the bright light burns like hell, he arches up, every muscle uptight, but straps are holding him down. The sanatorium, he's in the sanatorium! Eight hands are immediately darting on his body, trying to press him down and hold him still when his awakening gets noticed. „No!“, he screams, ripping and pulling at the straps with all his strenght trying to break them. His voice sounds hoarsely and rusty when he continues his booming protest with loud roaring and growling. His throat feels like he had tried to swallow glass. Rage fuels his attempts to break free, but the straps made out of solid and thick leather are not giving in. The only thing giving in is his skin when the edges of the leather straps start cutting into it and blood runs down his wrists dripping onto the white sheets. How's that even possible??!, he asks himself depserately while he pulls so strong, the metal bedframe starts to bend.

„ _Is he fully awake?_ “, an insecure sounding female voice asks. Two hands are grabbing his head and press it down onto the matress in an attampt to hold him still. Then a mens voice speaks while his eyes are blended again by a hurting bright light: „ _I don't know. The reaction of his pupils is delayed._ “.

\--------------

Jason desperately shouts Michaels name while he shakes his body rudely, trying to get him back. The demon isn't breathing anymore and also shows no other sign of life. Sure, they're immortal and can make it quiet a while without breathing, but even their bodies need oxygen to work. Not as much as the mortal ones, but still…Not breathing at all can't be good no matter if immortal or not. But what scares him even more is the vanishing of the demons flickering energy. It feels like his flames are slowly extinguishing and it mercilessly fuels Jasons panic. He feels tears start to burn in his eyes. What the hell should he do??! What does someone do when an immortal demon straight out of hell is dying?? Feeling like being crushed under the pressure of pure fear and unbearable helplessness, he does the only thing his basic instincts are coming up with. „Don't you dare to just die or I'll follow you to hell and kick your damn ass!“, he shouts at the lifeless Michael, starting to sob while he slams his fists down hard on Michael chest.

\----------------

The more he struggles, the more the edges of the straps are tearing into his flesh. Not that he gives a shit, it only increases his anger. Still growling and roaring like a tiger throwing a tantrum, he swears to himself the second he manages to break free, he'll kill everyone in the room with his bare hands. Fuck, he would even bite through their throats! The mortals meanwhile are discussing what to do with him. The insecure sounding women seemingly doesn't wants to sedate him again while the men is arguing that they have to sedate him, becaurse of his mental and physical outburst. The other two aren't saying a word but they're closely watching him, they're obviously nurses.

 _Sedate me again?_ , he asks himself not able to concentrate long on it, caurse the all too familar feeling of getting crushed by the white walls slowly creeps back into him. _Hell isn't made of fire and sulfur and the devil isn't a red guy with hoves and horns. It's made of white walls, white ceilings, white clothings, white furniture, whit burning light, white, white, white… and the devil is a doctor in a white coat pretending to only want the best for his patients._

In between his roaring he hears the female say „ _What if he falls into a coma again?“_. But his brain is too busy with planning to kill everybody to care about it right now. The only thing he wants is to rip that fucking straps off, turn the room into a Pollock painting and get the hell out of that rat hole, back to the camp! When he thinks about to try to flip the bed over and make his way out of there even tied to the bedframe, the two nurses grab him again. Obviously the men doesn't cares a bit about what his colleague said, caurse when he approaches the bed again Michael can see a needle glistening in the unnatural light from the ceiling. Baring his teeth he tries as hard as he can to arche up from the matress, but against six hands, the women is now holding him down too, and fife straps, even he's powerless. No chance to avoid the injection, no chance to escape. No chance to get back to Jason.

He feels the cannula entering his flesh and the warm, prickeling feeling of the sedative spreads through his face. How often did he felt that kind of burn? Several times… _Fuck_ , he thinks while it's getting harder and harder to contract his muscles. His strenghts is leaving him and soon it's even too exhausting to keep his eyes open. He doesn't wants to faint, he wants to run, run back to the only individual that ever understood him, but his eyelids are so extremely heavy. The bright light is now only a blurry sparkle in front of his shutting eyes, when he hears metall hit against metall. It's rythmical and sounds like someone is drumming on the bedrame with a metal spoon or fork. Not that there were any forks made out of metall at the sanatorium. Only plastic that would immediately break if someone would try to stab anyone with it. A low and raspy chuckle joins the metallic clicking, both echoing in his ears getting away farther and farther. „No, no Mickey. Not just yet.“, a male voice says and something pointy brusches against his chest before everything wents black.

\----------------

Exhaling a deep breath like someone who was about to drown and just made it back up to the surface, his upperbody shoots up, knocking Jason back to the other side of the bed. „Get the fuck away from me!“, he roars, a blast of energy rushing back into his body while he punches and then grabs Jason by his throat. Choking him, he still can hear the metallic clicking echoing in his ears. „Mi…Michael…It's me…Jason…!“, Jason gaspes and gags, tapping Michaels arms. He's not sure whats worse, getting strangled or that the sudden return of dracula scared the last remaining shit out of him. However, though the hands around his neck are cutting off his oxygen, he's greately relieved that his devil is back from the dead and obviously as brutal as always. Raising his hands, he cups Michaels face between them. „It's…me…“, he stutters muffled, „…Jay…“.

The gasped words and the cold hands wich are sending rushing waves of a reassuring feeling through his body, are slowly, very slowly bringing his mind around again. It takes several minutes but then first he recognizes Jason, then the security of the cabin. It's dark and besides their breathing, well it’s more huffing than breathing, nothing can be heared. No metallic clicking, no voices whispering to each other, only them and the silence of the camp. „What…“, he mumbles losening his grip and slowly sliding his hands away from Jasons throat. While Jason coughts and gaspes feeling like he had run a marathon and weakly rolls on his side, Michaels eyes are darting from side to side. Trying to figure out what the actual heck had just happened, his brain still is busy with processing the situation at the sanatorium. It's too much to handle right now and pressing his hands firmly over his mask, he sags back onto the matress. Kneeling there with round shoulders, his face burried into his hands and breathing rapidly, he tries not to hyperventilate and to keep his rising panic at bay. His heartbeat is drumming loud in his ears, his eyes start to burn and fill with tears and he isn't able to understand any of the soft words Jason speaks to him. It is long ago that he had a panic attack, but now his old friend is back, clenching his chest and making him shake uncontrollably.

Only when the strong arms lay around his back, he feels the coolness of Jasons body again and the soothing energy starts to completely floot him, he manages to understand what Jason is saying. „It's ok, it was a nightmare. Everything's fine.“, the low voice tells him softly, repeating it over and over while big cold hands rub reassuringly circles on his back. Still breathing way too fast, it's hard to form any coherent words. When Michael manages to press something out, his voice is thin, breathy and shakes slightly. „It was so real.“, he breathes against Jasons chest where his face is hiding now. Pressing it into the secure coolness, Jason tightens his embrace even more, doesn't answers him and instead only keeps on rubbing the trembling back and starts to gently rock them both. Nuzzling his mask into the crook of Michaels neck, his big frame almost completely hides the slightly smaller devil, shielding him from everything.

„I was at the sanatorium, strapped down onto a bed…I tried to break free, but they sedated me…how's that even possible?“, Michaels voice says hitching after a pause of silence, way too fast for Jasons taste. Pulling back just enough to look into the confuesed and terrorized dark eyes, Jason quietly, sounding as soothing as he can, tells him: „It was just a dream…“, cupping Michaels face his thump smoothly strokes over the cheek of the mask, „…Everything is ok. You're save here with me. Though you really gave me a hell of a fright“. Or better the Grand Dame of all frights! But he won't tell it Michael, the little demon is paniced and confused enough for one night. His last sentence is followed by a relieved filled chuckle. Christ, he feared Michael could die for real, even though he's immortal. Just like said, panic is a nasty little trickster, blending the senses and he’s sure he never was closer to actually get a stroke caurse of astronomic blood pressure than this night. It was a roller coaster ride of being high from killing, being amazed and turned on by their kissing, being extra cozy while remembering it, then being freaked out caurse Michael almost died and in the end being relieved as fuck, caurse he didn't. He knew there were more than three emotions, like Michael claimed to be, but he wasn't aware he could experience such a bunch of them in less than twenty four hours.

„I couldn't feel you…“, Michael suddenly sobs, decently surprising Jason. He hadn't thought Michael was even able to give a whine sounding so desperate and sorrowful. Instinctively his arms wrap around Michael again when his little demon hides his face to his chest, clenching his hands into the fabric of his shirt like he was afraid that Jason could vanish into thin air any second. „Shhh, shhh…“, one cold hand slides up to the back of Michaels head cupping and pressing it even closer to the broad chest, „…I won't go away“, the low voice softly growls into his ear.

\----------------

It was almost noon, when Michael woke up again. The nightmare had drained him, left him exhausted and decently freaked out, searching shelter in Jasons arms. His big buddy had hold him the whole time and guided his sleep, only letting go when he insisted that everything was fine again and wiggled out from the secure embrace. It amazed him how true Jason was and being hold by him, bathing in his energy while listening to his throaty but calming breathing was exactly what he needed to come down and even drift back into sleep. Not that he would ever admit that, specially not to Jason. Nope, not gonna happen, absolutely not! But, as annoying and unpleasant it is, he has to admit to himself that the clumbsy guy had successfully managed it to sneak into his heart. Heart? Does he even has one? However, Jason had managed to take possesion of a place deep inside him and the feeling he had when he was strapped down not able to sense Jasons energy anywhere was one of the worst feelings he had ever experienced. He had felt more empty, more lonely, more imperfect and displayed than ever before and hell knows he is an expert in feeling like shit. Sitting on the roof of the cabin, knees pulled up under his chin, arms wrapped around his legs, there's something else that bothers him. Two somethings. First: He remembers lively the more than embarrassing sound his voice pitched when he had told Jason he wasn't able to feel him in his dream. Second: Was it even a dream? It was so vivid and intense…not like his usual nightmares or strange dreams. They normally were blurry and when he woke up, he knew it was just a dream. This one was so different, he was so deep into it that it left him with a unpleasent and slightly frightening feeling in the pit of his stomache. On the other hand, he had sleepwalked and sleep-slashed once before. Maybe that's just the way of his brain to tell him „No, I'm done with this shit, I'm going home!“. Then it grabs it's hat from the wardrobe, takes it's walking stick and leaves him behind to turn into a drooling jackass.

But the first thing he botheres about is deffinitely the worse. Not only that he had cried, well tears were forming in his eyes but if you want to be accurate it was crying and it gave him a nice headache, thank you brain, no, he also had done it in front of someone else. Someone he had tried to convince that he, Michael Myers, was a cold, tough and badass bastard without any soppy feelings. The whines that had slipped out of him weren't helping in any way as well. Jason must be throwing a party and doing a victory dance mentally, now certain that Michael indeed had more than three emotions. „Fucking shit…“, he sighs dropping his forehead onto his knees. Maybe he should crawl into a deep hole and never come out again until he dies there and his embarrassement with him!

Jason meanwhile had finished his _morning_ round over the camps grounds, though it is almost afternoon when he returns to the cabin. Two rounds will do it for today or maybe he‘ll do his third round at night, but he just wasn't able to leave Michael alone after he fell asleep again, exhausted to his limits. Thinking about the moment he noticed Michael wasn't breathing anymore still scared the shit out of him, not to mention the moment he noticed his energy fading from his body. He had only once felt so helpless and weak before and that was when he drowned in the lake as a kid. Playing the whole scene over and over again in his head like a movie, he became certain that, no matter how little Michael would discribe their relationship, the two of them already needed each other strongly. It was not only him, feeling like going insain when Michael seemed to leave him, no, the evil devil felt as miserable as he did without being able to feel the counterpart of his energy. No matter how hard Michael tried to talk down the whole connection they had, it was way more than he claimed it to be. The longer he thought about it, the more he wanted, no he **needed** to, talk to Michael and convince him that there was more than only _pressure realease_  or better make him finally admit it. It was so obvious, that even that proud little brat with his _„I'm cold as ice_ “-attitude had to admit it. Not that it was going to be easy, nah nothing in context with Michael was easy he knew first hand. But, and that was the thing that was poking his hindbrain the whole time, the moment last night when Michael collapsed into his arms, whining and whimpering, allowing his vulnerably side to take over, was great evidence, wasn't it? At least it wasn't something he could easily deny or even pretend Jason misunderstood it. No, there was nothing to missunderstand. All it was, was basic needs, emotions taking over and the conspicuous fact, that they already needed and liked each other on a decent level.

When he checks the cabin and can't find Michael, he knows exactly where his unteachable little demon is. One of his eyebrows starts to twitch and he exhales an upsetted breath. He's on the roof. The roof he told im a thousend of times isn't safe enough to dance around on, the roof one day Michael will break through and fall or get stucked in, the roof Michael made him walk around on too when he wanted to talk to him, the roof that avoids rain from falling into the cabin, **the god damn roof** he isn't the least bit interested in fixing if Michael, no when Michael breaks a hole of his size into it! Saying „ _I told you so_ “ would be satisfying, but not worth the effort of fixing it. Grumbling annoyed words under his breath, Jason heads up the stairs and stores his machete to it's new standard place. Since he sleeps in one of the beds upstairs and shares the room with Michael, the machete found it's place leaning between his bed and the nightstand next to it. Ready to be grabbed and used if something unexpacted happens. Not that he wonders about anything anymore. No, since Michael showed up everything is possible and the absurdest of it will happen.

Tossing his jacket onto his bed, he makes his way to the trap that‘s placed into the ceiling right in the middle of the long corridor. While he openes it and climps the small ladder, way too small for his big body feeling like entering some kind of a dollhouse, he still mumbles grumpy stuff. God, who had the idea to make it all so tiny? Were the architects smurfs?! The attic is so low he has to bend down that much that technically it would be comfortabler to actually crawl. Fortunately there's no stuff staying around and blocking his way. The first time he had gone to the attic was when Michael climbed up on the roof for his first time out. Before that? What should he had been looking for up there? Guessing that he had to go up there on a frequent base from than on, he had thrown out all the old, dusty stuff that was slowly aging up there over the decades. Chairs, benches, an old TV and a radio, rolled up carpets, matresses, something he guessed was a very old vacuum cleaner, but wasn't sure, uncountable spiders and a really cute rat family with at least fifty members. Carefully lifting a couple of the adorable babies into his hands, he carried them up to the roof to show them to Michael. He wasn't sure what exactly went wrong, caurse it happened with light speed. The moment Michael saw the tiny and very fluffy baby rats, a shriek in an octave hurting Jasons ears cutted through the normally very silent camp. Michael dashed up like stinged into his ass and almost fell backwards from the roof only bearly keeping his balance on the edge. Confused and softly holding the crawling around fur balls, Jason had stared at him with wide eyes while Michael high pitched yelled at him backing away several more feet. „You disgusting, filthy muckraker of an idiot! Stay the hell away from me with this nasty scatterer of the plague!“. Blinking down onto the happily wimmling cottonballs, Jason hadn't understood the problem but decided to rather bring them down again before Michael would completely lose his shit or really fall from the roof in the end. How could anybody not like these little fluffy sweeties? They were adorable and very clever. Spending years all by himself at the camp had brought him to interact with them. They were living in the cabin with him and it was fun to watch them running around or try to lure them and feed them. One day he even spotted a white one and was more than thrilled by it. He named it Snowflake, but unfortunately rats lifes are way more limited than his immortal one and Snowflake died after about one and a half year. Thinking about it still made him sad, like he had lost a beloved pet.

Now, Jason is relieved that at least he had removed the junk from the attic so the only thing he currently is bumping into is the inner side of the roof. Crawling across the tiny area isn't helping with his ranting, so when he finally gets through the trap leading onto the roof he's still grumbling. „Christ, how often did I told you not to climb up here! It isn't save.“, he yells cautiosly balancing over the shingles like walking on raw eggs. Who in hell knows wich are stable enough and wich not?!

„Hmm you mentioned it a few times, yes…“, Michael replies not even looking up at Jason and still hugs his knees tightly to his chest. When Jason manages to get to him after a while of testing out a stable enough path, he carefully sits down and sights: „One day we both will crash through it, break all of our bones and have no other chance as to helplessly lay there and wait untill they heal again…“.

„You're only pissed, caurse you're too big and clumbsy for the attic. Maybe I should give you some lessons in moving with a decent grace.“, Michael mocks him, though he's not really in the right mood for being his usual snappy self. Not with the knowledge of Jason being aware of his emotions and not with the bad feeling the dream gave him. As big as the urge is to tell him to shut the fuck up and listen to him for only once, Jason swallows it down and instead only gives him a warning growl. It's true. Michael with his magical snake-like movements has absolutly no problems with crossing the attic. No, even in a bend down position and in constant danger of hitting a hole into his head, the little demon sneaked through it like a freaking ninja. Not even in his wildest dreams would Jason be able to move like this, he was sure. Not that he often dreamed about other things than his demon anymore, since he came there.

After a while of only silently sitting there and looking over the camp and the lake, Jason makes a hesitant and very cautios try to take Michaels left hand wich is now leaning onto the shingles. Letting his legs swing from the edge of the roof, deffinitely to piss Jason off but only a little bit, his arms are stretched out behind his back and he's leaning onto them. While Jasons fingers brush over Michaels, featherlightly as if asking for permission, the big guy watches him closely from the corner of his eye, thinking about the three possible reactions he could count with. Reaction one would be typical his cocky demon, pulling his hand away from the touch like the diva he is. Reaction two would be Michael immediately starting to growl and yell at him, reacting to the touch like a cat that's got thrown into water. This one is the most likely, judging by the demons dark and suspicious quiet mood. Reaction three and that is more a romantic and silly daydream than a real possibility is, that Michael accepts the touch and allows Jason to actually hold his hand. Giving in to him and sneakes back into his arms like he did the last night. Giving him that warm and cozy feeling again and the fortifying thought of being needed. Yeah, yeah like said it is more a corny daydream than a possible scenery.

Feeling Michael tense and shifting his gaze away from the lake to stare at him, Jason bursts out: „We have to talk!“, only a little bit too loud. And if that wasn't embarrassing! The almost black eyes are slwoly sliding down over his body, stopping at their barely touching fingers to equally slowly slide up again, giving him a look that deffinitely, one hundred percent deffinitely, contains one high raised eyebrow under the mask. „You don't say.“, his little package of dynomite with a very short fuse answers him in a frightening tone, after an unpleasent while of only staring. Feeling the little hairs at the back of his neck stand up, Jason comes to think that it maybe was a bad idea to climb up onto the roof.


	10. Flying pigs and grasing unicorns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly? I'm surprised that this chapter is already done o.Ô   
> Currently I'm also crafting juwlery for my drag outfit and my bf asked me if I could draw a reference to be used for her first tattoo. However, chapter 10, enjoy :*

Since four days, Jason is busy with nothing else than wood, nails, hammering, sawing and crawling around on his hands and knees. Fortunately he had found the tools in the wracked device-scale, but shingles were no where to be found. So, he had to climb onto the roof of another cabin, collect all the shingles that were still useable, climb down and climb up to the roof of their cabin again. Describing his mood as decently irritated would be a hell of an understatement and Michael that nerve sawing little goblin of a devil wasn't helping with his mood as well.  
He had told him to stay the fuck away from the roof and banned his little ass to the ground. Yeah, not even to think about placing a foot on the attic. But with Michael it was the same as with a mischievous little boy. Everything that was forbidden, was extra, super duper interesting and he was sneaking around like a spy. He was good, silent, almost invisible and surprisingly creative, but the thing was that his energy betrayed him every time he tried to sneak up there. The first few times Jason had managed to stay calm and tell him in a very civilizied manner, that he would do better if he would stop to disturb him. Trying it several times again dragged his patience downwards like a swirl with a kraken at the bottom and finally swallowed it in one bite. The last time Michael showed up, he lost his shit and threw a shingle right at him. Lucky little devil, caurse actually he was about to throw the hammer, but decided the last second it maybe would be a little too harsh…maybe and unfortunetly he still needed the hammer in one piece. But next time? He couldn't guarantee for nothing.  
Not only Michael and crawling around on his hands and knees in the steadily warmer getting spring sun were playing benjo on his nerve strings. No, the fact that he never had crafted before and was poorly unexperienced was also bugging him at least on the same level. Actually it was foolproof. Rip the broken shingles off and replace them with the good ones. Sounds easy, doesn't it? Well as easy as it may sound, he more than once hit his hands with the hammer instead of the nail, blaming his clumsyness for it and had to deal with splinters sticking in his skin several times. Sawing was equally tricky. A few times he was close, very close to cut one of his fingers off or tear the saw into his tight. How was it possible that humans choose this kind of work voluntarily as a constant job?!

  
But it wasn't only fixing the the nice hole in the roof. Being aware that Michael, stubborn as he is, would continue with sneaking up to the roof, he decided to at least make it solid enough to avoid any other future incidents. That meant he also had to check and replace some of the roof racks and honestly, it was like nuclear physics for him. Hell, his work could easily quallify as abstract art and be shown in a museum, but thanks hell, no one with know-how would ever see his mess. That was a plus, yes? On top of it all he had, or better his with the little demon intoxicated brain had decided to built some kind of a sitting area. Maybe with a small roof so Michael could also spend time up there when it rained or when it got windy next autumn. Yes, he was totally fucked. Not only that he had absolutely no clue how to built it, he meanwhile was completely, with every cell of his body, owned by Michael. By all demons, why else should he do something stupid like this?!   
But, how the actual heck did he ended up in this situation in the first place?

\-----------------

  
„You don't say?“  
After hearing the warning pitch in Michaels voice and becoming aware that it was an absolutely stupid idea to climb up to him, Jason is struggling with answering his demons question. The black eyes are fixating him in a way that lets his brain scream at him to run away and doesn't even thinks about to form a coherent answer. Neverthless, he has to talk to Michael. Soooo, time to be all suicidal and open pandora's box.  
„Umm yeah I do…“, he starts looking at Michaels hand wich is snatched away from his fingers fast as lightning, „…about last night.“. Snarling what sounds like a grunting pig and is loaeded full of disgust, Michael turns his gaze back to the lake. „I don't want to.“, he says flat out in a tone of _this conversation is over before it even started_.

  
„I know but…you can't pretend nothing happened.“

  
„You wanna bet about that?“, his demon snaps looking at the nervously shifting Jason from the corner of his eye, „It was nothing extraordinary, only a nightmare wich I was slightly upset of, nobody has to freak out, everything is as normal as always, **IF** this whole mess can be described as normal.“.

  
„Slightly upset?“, Jason repeats, looking at Michael in disbelieve. Is he serious??

  
„Don't you think it's a little too late to describe your state as _slightly upset_ after you had a mental break down including a panic attack, clinging to me like to a lifebelt, freaking out and everything?“

  
Pointing an angry finger at the still disbelieving looking Jason, Michael growls between his teeth: „I had no mental break down! And the panic attack? Yes, it was one and I have them since I can remember. It took me by surprise last night, caurse it is long ago that I had one otherwise I would've reacted differently!“ He knows what Jason is trying, he's trying to dig out his vulnerable side again and that is something that's not gonna happen! Not before pigs are happily flying through the air and unicorns are grasing around the lake.

  
„It's ok to struggle some times, you know… You don't have to fear that I could make fun of you or exploit your feelings.“  
It was meant to sooth Michael, but damn that fuse of his is shorter than Jason thought it to be. Jumping up and already trembling from anger Michael grabs the collar of his shirt. „I. Am. Not. Afraid.“, he hisses furiously, his face so close their masks are almost touching. For a normal person with good working self defense mechanisms, it would've been enough to shut up and let go of the topic once and forever. But Jason obviously isn't that kind of person.

„You were when you wasn't able to feel me in your dream.“, he states calmly, obviously a kind of person that likes to play with the fire even if he is in danger to burn in the flames or already is on fire.

  
„It was just a dream! A dream! And I wasn't, I was confused and statled up last night! Nothing more!“, Lucifer himself screams while pushing Jason back and clenching his hands into tight fists. His voice caursing several birds to flee from their trees surrounding the cabin. It isn't like Jason isn't familar with the demonic sounds Michael was able to release from his throat, but this time? This time it was close to the edge of turning into a voice you could summon demons from hell with and that would frighten even the bravest exorzist to his bones. To be honest, hearing Michael growl like this he deffinitely liked better in other situations.  
Standing up and taking some cautious steps forward Michael who backed away and is glaring at him like he wants to smash his head per the power of his thoughts, Jason tries again to soothe him, even though his own patience is getting thin and he's a little bit afraid to accidentaly push Michaels self destruction button. „How about if you stop with playing the unnearable princess for once and admit that there is actually more inside you than the cold and smug guy you pretend to be…“, he says reaching one hand out, ignoring the disgusted sounding snort Michael gives to the word _princess,_ „…you already need me and I need you. Hell, it's so obvious it can be seen from space...“ And for one short moment it seems like Michael is considering to take the offered hand and is about to break down his thick fasade. The tenseness slightly leaves his squared shoulders and his gaze softens a little. „You think it's just coincidence that our energies fit so perfectly together? It can't be, Michael.“, Jason adds, but the moment is short, too short. Before the last syllable crosses his lips, Michael catches fire again and his hand darts out to angrily slap Jasons away. Folding his arms protectively in front of his chest and realeasing Jason from his death glare the demon says in a cold voice: „I don't need anybody…“. A sad smile tucks at the cornes of his lips when he approaches Jason and adds: „…and you know why? Caurse there never was anyone I could hope for to satisfy such a need. It’s self torture to hope for something that's just not gonna happen.“. He stops a few steps in front of Jason, the black eyes giving away how he really feels right now, no matter of his hiding skills.

  
And it hurts. It hurts to hear Michael say that and most of all Jason wants to immediately throw his arms around him and show him that there actually is someone now, who's ready to care for him. But the walls of selfdefense are up high around the little devil, shielding him from anything that could've the potential to go deeper and embracing him now would most likely result in another round of yelling. Instead he only watches Michael for a moment. Standing in front of him his head is slightly bent down with his eyes fixed at the tips of his boots.

„I'll be th—“ , Jason tries, but suddenly Michael grabs his face rudely between his hands and forcefully pulls him closer.

„Don't you even think about to say it.“, he growls warningly while his energy feels like it's going to tear into Jason skin.

  
„But—“

  
„No, there's no but, Jay. Even if you would, what would you expect to happen?“, chuckling low though it sounds sadder than it was meant to and his eyes are still betraying him, he taps Jasons chest right where his heart sits, „I already told you I'm not able to feel the way you expect me to. No matter how strong you may want me to, it won't happen.“

  
Slowly leaning forward Jason presses his forhead to Michaels, hoping to not caurse hell to break lose over him. „Maybe with time you'll learn it.“, he whispers sliding his hands up Michaels still firmly folded and so tense arms they're slightly shaking. The demon chuckles again sounding as sad as before, but also disbelieving in a way of knowing that there was no way to make that happen. Jason is pushing him like no one ever did before, but he really earns some extra points for trying so hard and if he is honest with himself, the big guy is closer to succeed than he might think. It's so tempting to just give in, but how in hell should that work out? Jason obviously looking for a deep emotional connection and then there's him, the world champion of being emotional crippled. It won't work, not for him and not for his big buddy. Besides that, what if it against all expectations works out, he manages to open up to the big guy, maybe even to mimic his feelings and then some day Jason gets fed up with him? Sure now he's adoring him, but what if he some day realizes that it's harder to get along with him than he thought it would be? What if…it always scared him deeply to have no control about the outcome of things. So he avoided situations he couldn't control and is doing the same now. „You're cute my big boy, but unfortunately you're also very naiv…“, he breathes and pushes against Jasons forhead, eyes squeezed shut he ignores the rising urge to give in. It takes every bit of strenghts to avoid it, every bit of selfcontrol to prevent his muscles from moving the way he longes for and if he clenches his jaw even more, he's afraid to break off some teeth. Before his brain can decide to do something stupid, he pulls away from Jason and vanishes through the roof trap with an elegant jump, so fast Jason can't say nothing to him anymore.

  
Still feeling the phantom of the devils touch he's left behind with a mixture of anger, becaurse of Michaels stubbornness and a feeling of defeat boiling up inside him. Clenching his fists and stretching his arms out he swings around to face the trap and shouts at it: „Fine! Keep on hiding and I'll mind my own buisiness from now on!“. Michael really is stubborn as a tank!

  
Needing to let go of his anger, caurse otherwise he fears to actually pop a vein, he stomps one foot onto the shingles beneath him, not thinking about the instability of the roof. Well, and that was a bad mistake. When the wood crackles under him and he gets aware of what he had done it's too late and it's going downwards fast. The impact on the attic is hard and hurtfull, joined by an loud bang and a huge cloud of dust rising up. Little pieces of broken shingles are raining down on him while he tries to decide wich part of his body hurts the most. His rips are killing him, but the gunfire in his head is not to be sneezed on as well. Screw it, every inch aches and he could've been as good hit by a train. When he dares to slowly blink his eyes open, the first thing he sees through the slight fog of the dust is Michael bend over him with wide eyes, obviously decently surprised by his unintentionally stunt. Looking past him he recognizes the blue sky and a nice hole emblazoned proudly into the roof. „Don't say a word.“, he coughs weakly when Michael inhales a breath just about to voice his own thought. The last thing he needs on top now is a smug sounding brat telling him the roof isn't save to stomp on.

\------------------

  
After Jason managed to get back on his feet, though his body was protesting vehemently and temporarily he thought his head would roll off his shoulders any second. Michael had helped him down the way too tiny ladder and brought him down to the living area. Not saying a single word as he was told, he fetched a clotch, well it was more a old patch of fabric than a clotch, but it did what it should do and started to gently pat the several light bruises covering Jason. If only a piece of fabric could help with his rips. They were feeling like impaling his lungs and who knows maybe they did. He would know it for sure if he starts to cough blood. The physical pain was bad yes, but what was even worse was that he was the one crashing through the damn roof when he always told Michael it wasn't save enough. The crash deffinitely smashed his pride as well and it hurt like acid! Maybe there were even splinters sticking in it? It felt like.

  
„This is your fault…“, he mumbles grumpily while Michael is taking care of a bleeding cut on the knuckles of his left hand. „Sure it is. Who elses should it be? Since you know exactly how careful one must move up there and wasn't getting tired of telling me so.“, Michael replies slightly increasing the pressure of his patting. Chuckling when Jason hisses from the pain he of course  _totally accidentaly_ gave him, he shifts his concentration to some of the bruises covering the thick neck. „You should've warned me about your little performence so I would had the chance to actually see it. All I heared was a loud rumble, thinking someone shot a cannon ball through the roof and when I turned around, it was already over.“, he breathes against the cold skin near Jasons ear, faking dissapointment and isn't able to hide a tiny giggle.   
„Very funny!“, Jason glares at him from the corner of his eye not moving his head, caurse the gently patting on his neck actually feels pretty nice, „It wouldn't have happened in the first place if you weren't fleeing from me to avoid something that's a little difficult…again!“

  
„It also wouldn't have happened if you hadn't pushed me again.“, Michael conters and adds, „And I wasn't fleeing, I left caurse it makes no sense to discuss something incredible.“. And it's true. The thing his big buddy wishes for indeed is incredible.

  
„I didn't meant to push you…“, Jason mumbles, regretting it a little bit, but what else should he do? Grabbing a hold of Michaels wrist and pulling back to look into the black eyes: „…but I won’t accept it as incredible. Before meeting you I thought it was incredible that somewhere out there someone like me exists, but it wasn't…“. The look his devil gives him is a completely new one. Not only that he obviously doesn't knows what to answer and actually he is the king of fast and snappy answers, no, he also looks puzzled like a small child trying to figure out a magic trick. When silence stretches and all they do is to stare at each other for several long moments, Jason dares to use this chance to keep on. „Most mortals are describing our pure existence as incredible, but that doesn't makes us any less real.“, sliding his hand up to cup the back of Michaels neck he waits, but the puzzled look remains in the dark orbs and Michael stays silent. „We're not bound to any rule of the mortals world…why should we be bound to a construct they invented and wich is obviously scaring the shit out of you?“. Wow, where had that come from? Maybe in truth he was a genuis, but nobody had noticed yet?

  
And it made Michaels confusion complete. Though his body even stopped breathing momentarily and he doesn't dares to twitch an eyelash to not show of any emotions, behind the front of his forhead a war breaks lose. Thoughts are shooting through his head like bullets, swishing along each other, crashing into each other, perforating his brain and creating chaos he isn't able to see through. It takes almost ten minutes to come up with something to say. Jason, polite as he is, mommas good boy remember(?), waits patientally the whole uncomfortable time of silence it takes and only rubs small circles on the back of his neck. Sighting Michael answers him: „I know it may have cost you much effort to come up with something like this and don't get me wrong, it really is a good argument, but…“, always start with something positiv, „…but I told you, I can't be what you expect me to be. I just can't.“.

  
To make his confusion even worse, though he wasn't aware that it was actually possible, Jason flat out says: „What if I don't expect anything?“. As if it is a totally usual thing to say and he's even looking like he's really serious about it. That's the moment when both of Michaels eyebrows rise high up to his hairline and he pulls away from the cold touch. _The hell does he means with not expecting anything? Isn't it what it's all about? Expecting me to reply to his feelings?,_  he asks himself while standing up, clenching the cloth in his fist. Putting a save distance between them and suspiciously glaring at Jason he asks with a mix of curiousity and awareness: „What do you mean by not expecting anything?“ And while he speaks his body smoothly shifts in the room, making it appear like he's getting ready to use the emergency exit. What by experience could even be a half opened window if he really wants to. There was no way someone would do something without expecting a compensation.

  
Not planning to let him get away again, Jason also rises to his feet, still a little bit dizzy and slightly closes the gap between them. Remembering comparing Michael with a wild animal when he first experienced his demons self defense mechanism, he stops a few steps away from him. His mother always told him animals, when cornered, could get very dangerous. Not that he expects Michael to jump and bite him like the squirrel did wich caursed his mother to explain it to him, but well… nothing is impossible.

„I meant it like I said it. I don't expect nothing…I only ask you to not push me away.“ Nervously rubbing his hands on his jeans when he says his last sentence, he hopes he hasn't pushed his luck too far and watches Michaels every move very closely. His devil is tense and looks like a deer caught in the lights of a truck, waiting for the impact. And it seems to be painfully forcefull when it hits him, even when it's only mentally.   
„So, let me get that straight. You say you don't expect anything from me exept of not pushing you away?“, Michael suspiciously asks while he pulls his shoulders back and tilts his head to the side like looking at Jason from another angle will explain it to him. A nod is all Jason gives him, looking at him from under his eyebrows with this damn innocent blue eyes of his. He appears like a little boy who had just asked for ice cream right before dinner is ready and damn, Michael would've a hard time to deny it to him. Stepping closer, he slightly dugs as if aware of an attack and asks again: „And you know, no you finally understood that I'm not able to feel the way you do?“.

  
„I know.“  
„And you are aware that it will never, deffinitely never change?“

  
„I am.“

  
Stepping closer with every question, Michael stands right in front of Jason when his last question gets answered, underlined with an enthusiastic nod of the deformed head. Sighting he pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. They burn like hell becaurse of the wrestling match of thoughts inside of his buzzing head. Life teached him there always were traps, they literally were every-fucking-where. Where was it with Jason? What was the big guy really up to? Or should it be possible that there was none and the big clumsy guy just was the one and only honest and true being in the great, wide world? If such a being existed it most likely would‘ve been Jason with his attitude of always be true, not hurt others exept they invaded the camp and be a good boy no matter what. However it may be, the longer those blue angel eyes are pleading him, the harder it gets to reject. And while he imagines Jason as the kind of little boy, who always brought injured little animals home with him, cold fingers slide into his half closed palm hanging at the side of his body. He blinks one eye open giving Jason a _you can't be serious_ -look. The cold fingers tug on his hand, as well as the calm energy tucks on his fire, silently asking for permission and when he doesn't pulls away it only takes a few inches for Jason to lean forward and wrap him into the embrace he actually wanted to already give him on the roof. „You're the dumbest person I've ever met.“, he sights against cold skin and leans into the embrace. It's just too exhausting not to, even if he'll regret it soon. Jason is more than happy that he can hide his big, stupid, satisfied smile into the crook of Michaels neck. Nuzzling to the pale skin, he is glad that this baby step actually seems to be successfull.

\----------------

  
So, navigating through all this mess brought him into the situation he currently is stucked in. But it could be worse. It could be raining cats and dogs, turning the cabin into a fish tank or he could've poorly failed in handling the explosive mixture Michael is and his devil could've backed away even more or blow up like a truck load of nitroglycerin, destroying everything in a certain radius. Not that it remained as easy as it first appeard. Oh no, after Michael had time to neatly think everything through, he came up with a few _rules_  wich weren't to discuss. Either Jason would accept them or he could go and fuck himself, the demon had said. It doesn't surprised him, no really it doesn't. Michael indirectly agreeing to try something deeper than only satisfying their physical needs, though he himself just noticed to actually have such needs, was way too easy to actually be true. The same evening, after the demon hid in their bedroom and brooded about everything for several hours, he made Jason sit on one of the couches at the living area. Pacing up and down in front of him he told him to be absolutely attentive and listen closely to what he had to say. Jason was innerly amused about the way Michael announced his rules, but on the outside he was highly concentrated and listened without interrupting him. He was good in listenening and when it came to Michael, he was also good in listening between the lines. Something that ever had escaped his skills, but Michael surprisingly was easier to read. Well, their connection through their energies helped a lot, giving away a certain ammount of informations.

  
Rule one said that Michael never has to say some corny shit, no matter if it botheres Jason or not. He was not allowed to complain about it or try to push Michael to say something like this.

  
Rule two said no matter what happenes, they won't share a bed. Not even when Michael would have nightmares again. Sharing beds was for old married couples and Jason guessed, for Michael, it was way too near to actually indicate something serious.

  
Rule three was about situations Michael would keep absolut control of. This situations mainly were such as when things got really intimate. Jason wouldn't be allowed to do anything without explizite permission or if Michael would be too far gone, without him clearly indicating that it was allowed. Though he mentioned that he wasn't a top and first had to explain the concept of top and bottom to Jason before he was able to continue, he would be the one dominating at every giving time, no exeptions. Since he was obviously way more experienced than his big boy, Jason was ok with it though he wondered if Michael perhaps, but only perhaps had light control issues.

  
Rule four said, that if Michael would've the feeling Jason uses the new situation to manipulate him or tries to sneak him into doing things he wasn't ok with, the show would immediately be over.

  
Rule fife slightly surprised Jason, but also confirmed knowing his little devil was far more vulnerable than he admitted to be. It said that if Jasons intentions or feelings change, he had to immediately tell it to Michael. No playing nice, no beating around the bush, no excuses.

  
Rule six was bound to rule fife. In case Jason decides that he was not longer interested in him and they would get back to being _friends +_ , there would be no screaming, no yelling, no drama, no fighting, nothing. It would be like turning a switch. Quiet, smooth and fast.

  
Rule seven was self explaining. If any of the previous rules get broken, rule six would immediately come into effect.

  
And of course, Michael reserved it to himself to end the whole thing at any time without giving any reasons or explainations.

  
Honestly? After listening to Michaels speech about his rules, he wondered that he hadn't to signature an offical contract. It was absolutely thinkable that Michael had found an old typewriter and paper somewhere and spend the hours hiding in their bedroom with typing a contract. Picturing it, he wondered how Michael would look like with glasses…However, how could anybody be so sticked and in such an desperate need of strickt rules?! Maybe it was becaurse Michael was the type to think everything through, weighting every single possible outcome, forge neatly detailed plans and strickly follow them. He wasn't able to comprehend with it. In contrast, he always was the type who never had a plan, never thought anything through, always reacted spontaneously to situations and only thought about the consequences when they litteraly jumped into his face. But maybe it is good the way it is. Imagine two totally chaotic and unprepared immortals trying to get along with each other. It would be like gifting a pyromane with a matchbox and a canister of gasoline.

  
All in all he was pleased with the outcome of their fight. He would‘ve been completely pleased if he hadn't decided to build that god damn shelter for Michael. Standing in front of several different sized pieces of wood and a box full of rusty nails, he asks himself what the actual fuck he was thinking when he decided it. He, who has two left hands, a natural talent to hurt himself with the most ordinary things and never used a hammer or nails ever before in his whole life…He knows what he had thought. He thought it would be nice to build a nest for Michael, that it would please him, that it maybe lifts his mood a little and that it maybe would get him some extra points, that was what he was thinking. Lifting one piece of wood up, he stares at it, trying to think about a way how he was supposed to turn this pile of dead trees into a fitting hiding place for Michael. Fixing the roof wasn't easy, but he only had to close a gap not creat something out of thousend little individual parts. Sighting the penny painfully slowly drops, that the four days he needed to fix the roof were a ridiculous short ammount of time against what he would need to actually build something. Maybe he would spend the rest of his life on the roof. And when he finally gets finished, he will be ancient with an impressing white beard and maybe Michael would be long gone or maximally pissed at him with an equally impressing beard.

 


	11. Jason deserves a reward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason gets layed for the first time! This chapter mainly is about the two of them getting into it. So, if you don't want to read such things, skip this chapter ;)
> 
> For the once that are interested in dirty things: I'm not good with smut, no I'm really not. Please forgive me xD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really guys?? Are you serious?!
> 
> Over 1000 hits?! You. Are. Crazy! <3  
> I've never thought that this story will get so much attention...Honestly? I'm flashed! Thank you all so much :*

The cool night air brushes over his skin when he peels half way out of his overall. It's not as cool as Jasons hands, wich are strocking up and down on his back, but it also makes a nice contrast to his already heating up skin. Pushing closer to Jason, his hands cup the deformed face and he leans down into an all teeth and tongue kiss. His hips are drawing teasing circles, rubbing the growing hardness underneath him and he can't hold back a satisfied sounding chuckle to the grunts and sights Jason exhales. Making sure not to give too much friction just yet, the poor guy desperately tries to meet his circeling movements without much success. When he had told him he will be the one in control and dominate him, he had meant it. Pulling away from the rotten lips, inhaling a much needed breath, he leans back a little to observ his big buddy. Slowly tilting his head from side to side a big grin stretches across his displayed lips. He enjoys it highly to see how easily he is able to turn the big, strong guy into a heavily breathing mess even without much effort. It is just like fishing in a tank. The blue hazy eyes are looking at him so full of adoration and want, as if he was the most beautiful being in the world. He wasn't aware of it, but he missed it. People say you can't miss what you don't know, but they're wrong. He never had experienced being wanted so much, being adored, **needed** , but experiencing it now, he knows it is some of the certain things he had always missed. The cold hands never stop to slide up and down his back, insecure if it may be allowed to let them roam more freely. Taking the chance that leaning back caurses him to slightly lower on the lap he's straddled on, the big, needy bulge rubs harder against his buttom. While doing so, Jason watches him with caution. Seriously not wanting to do something without permission, the rubbing remains hesitant and gentle, waiting for Michael to continue or stop him. It stretches his grin even wider and caurse he's not the type to torture his partner, or better, torture him too long and anyways, he also wants so much more right now, he sinks down completely, radiating his hips with more pressure. For behaving so well so far, Jason deserves to be rewarded.

  
Said Myers-proofed good boy already almost isn't able to sort his thoughts into a reasonable order anymore. When Michael leans back his pale skin is almost glowing in the surprisingly bright moonlight, letting him appear even gracefuller as he already is. Though it's paradox beyond all good and evil, he just looks like some kind of sacred creature, with eyes so dark you can easily lose yourself in if you aren't careful enough. The view makes thinking really hard and the pink grinning lips and the way his smooth chest rises and sinks with every deep breath are not helping with it as well. On top, his by the devils evil teasing grown cock is not only screaming for attantion as loud as a starting jet, it also is painfully pushing against his jeans. It's so hard to not brush his fingertips over the smooth skin at Michaels front or start to gently work on his equally grown member, but he has to pull himself together. The threat to end everything when a rule gets broken was extremely effective and no matter how huge the feeling is that his brain is about to melt, Jason wants to, no has to patientaly wait for permission. The heat radiating from the demon, perfectly matching his burning energy, feels like electricity dancing over his skin. It's completely flooting his senses, so he only notices the instinctively and inpatiently moving of his hips when Michael responses to it with tiny, way too light circles. But as light as they are, they shoo away the slight fright of doing something without asking first that temporary shot through him.

  
When he leans in again, Michaels slender hands stroke over the broad chest. His soft fingertips are gently tracing the outlines of the scars and areas of raw flesh wich aren't healing anymore. It's stunning how gentle the devil can be and is able to send shivers up and down Jasons spine by only barely touching him. Thinking about his short temper and tendenzy to blow one, not fearing to get into a strong fight, it really is a huge contrast. As if there are two versions of him. The one ticking like a time bomb, able to explode several times in a row in a chain reaction and the one who's wicked hands are able to drive him crazy with their almost unbearable tenderness. Letting out a deep and throaty growl, his head automatically falls back to display his neck more the demon started to playfully bite on. His teeth aren't tearing into his skin, but the way they chew on his flesh is clearly saying they easily could if they want to. Not that he would mind it. What could be better than his so perfectly matching to him devil devouring him alive? Nothing he guesses… Giving deep sighs to every bite and also his cock seems to be very interested in the slight pain, twitching with every tuck on his skin, while his hands are still roaming the slinky back. When Michael reaches his collarbone and treats it with a sudden harder bite, his fingers claw into the soft skin and a whine escapes him. It doesn't carries the sound of someone in pain, it's loaded with lust and he can't help it, but to buck his hips up rudely the second the stinging pain shots over his nerves directly into his crotch. The hot breath of a chuckle meets his slightly abused and a little bit bleeding skin when his bucking caurses Michael to tilt forward, so hard he has to support his hands flat onto the cold chest.  
„Is buttercup trying to throw me off?“, he purrs, delicately licking up the thick blood and from Jasons collarbone over his neck to the edge of his jawbone. Jason shakes his head no obviously too distrected by the tongue sliding up his skin to voice a proper answer. Though he also was surprised by his sudden buck and his hands immediately grabbed a hold of Michael to avoid them both from bumping their heads together.

  
Teasing the shit out of Jason is unbeliveable joyfull no matter how often they play that game. Michael truly doubts that it'll ever gets boring, not with Jason so susceptible for his teasing. He often wondered how far he could go until the big guy couldn't stand it anymore and either would shot his load too early or would get so frustrated that he grabs and takes him, if he wants to or not. It would mean he loses control over the situation, well give up control. There was no way Jason could manage to do something when he really doesn't wants it to happen. Sure, he is a little bit smaller and not as bulky as his big boy, but he definitely is able to stand his ground against him. He proofed it more than once. However, thinking about the possibility to let Jason get the upper hand is arousing, but the same time frightening him. The lack of control always means that anything unexpected can happen. So, surrendering, really surrendering including giving up control to one hundred percent is nothing that would happen any time soon. Also, caurse Jason is still a virgin and most likely wouldn't know what to do, but most becaurse of the control thing.

  
But there was something about his fantasy that would happen soon. It would happen tonight, in a few moments, caurse he longes for it with every cell of his body and Jason had managed to make him want it even more. Maybe even on a deeper level than ever before, but he still is convinced he's not able to go considerably deep into all that emotional crap. Though he's a little nervous, caurse it's been a while, well several years, that he slept with someone. Neverthless, over the past few weeks the desire to connect with Jason has rised to a pressing level and nervous or not, tonight it finally has to happen. Otherwise he possibly has to go completely crazy. At least the fact that Jason is a virgin milders his nervousness a little and he truly wonders how mommas good boy will master his first time. „You want me, big boy?“, his voice asks breathyly straightening up from his bend down position he had taken to be able to also spread some bites onto Jasons stomach. He can feel Jasons hardness twitch against his ass wich is firmly pressed down onto the inpatient getting lap. Even if the big guy isn't able to voice his answer, his body is more than communicative.

  
\------------------

  
It was afternoon the same day, when king of clumsyness the 1th allowed Michael to finally come up to the roof again. Michael decently wondered what Jason might was up to, caurse it were all in all one and a half week that he bustled around up there. What the hell could take him so long? The hole was fixed after four days, he knew caurse he sneaked up to the attic regulary. Not that he was a curious kind of person, but if he wouldn't find out what Jason did the other seven days soon, he sure would be in danger to rip his own skin off becaurse of the million ants of inpatience crawling underneath it. Fortunately he was allowed to the roof this afternoon, so he at least was allowed to keep his skin. Hearing Jasons booming voice yell his name down the opened attic trap interrupted him in the middle of reading about everything someone should, really should, know about fishing. The title of the book „ _Everything about fishing and more_“, indicated there was a lot to know about it and though he didn't gave a rats ass about the topic, he slightly wondered what _and more_ meant. The whole time reading the dumb waste of paper this book was, he couldn't help but to ask himself how there should be even more, when there already was everything. It made no sense and things like that had the potential to trigger his inner wise ass to get a little upset. He was not amused about Jason interrupting him, but as curious as he was about the _and more_ , he was totally more curious about the roof and what Jason had done up there for so long. Swinging his legs out of his bed he yells back a shrilling „What?!“ frightening himself by sounding way too simular like Peggy Bundy.

  
Jumping up the small ladder like a feline climbing a tree, he hopes whatever it is, it's worth that he had to replace his favorite spot with the stairs of the cabin for eleven days. May hell and all it's unholy citizens help Jason if not…He scurried fast across the attic, jumping through the roof trap with the same feline elegance. Eleven days can be long, even for someone immortal and while he had tried over and over to sneak up onto the roof, he also had started to do trick jumps and tried out several different ways to cross the attic. Not that it was fun, he only did it becaurse he was bored as fuck…no, really! How was it? Man only get seven years old after that they only keep on getting larger?

  
„ It totally got about time, that you get finished with whatever crap you were doing here!“, Michael mocked while he crashed into Jason who stood unfavorable close to the trap. The big hands grabbed him fast and prevented him from bouncing backwarts down to the attic again. Jumping into Jason always was like jumping into a brickwall. If he ever would want to change his current job as the guardian of the camp with a affection for slashing mortals, he definitely would make a brilliant football player. Takling him? Bitch please, the impact throws you across the whole playfield!

Being a smug jerk or not, Michael secretely appreciated Jasons distinctive protective instinct and that he always got an eye on possible dangers. Grinning, his hands rudely patted the broad chest underneath the with sawdust covered shirt, caursing a cloud of dust to rise up. „If you don't stop to be such an annoying brat, I’ll send you back down for a few more days.“, the slightly growling voice had threatened.

„Come on, Jay. We both know you won't.“

Right. He won't, but being true doesn't made it any easier or better to deal with the devil in _let's see how offending I can get-_ mode. But for someone with the short temper of a tasmanian devil, waiting eleven days, though he had tried vehemently to trick Jason, perhaps was an excuse to get a little foul. Not a good excuse, but an excuse. When Jason had let go of him and stepped to the side, it hadn't mattered anymore how sour the mood of his little demon was. Everything what concerned him at this moment was, what he would say about his _work._  
It was nothing special. It was not pretty, not accurate, for sure not built as it should be, neither was it what he originally had visualized in his head. Actually you verily could pin a sign to it saying: „ _An interpretation of wood work, by **J.V.**_ “ Everybody with the tiniest bit of know-how would burst out into tears and mourn about the wasted materials, but art lovers would love it. But damn, it was his first try ever after all and he had done it for Michael, his Michael and no one else! It may wasn't an architectal master piece, but it surely was suitable to be used as a nest to hide at.

  
Seeing Michael circel his creation like an animal circeling something foreign, made him anxious as fuck. The more his elegant feline of everything morbid slowly paced around it and inspected every inch very closely, the more his throat thightened and it got uncomfortably hard to ignore the drumming of his heart. It seemed to be totally natural for Michael to behave as teasingly as possible and maybe he wasn't even aware of it, but for Jason his silence was becoming more and more nerve wrenching. If the devil even would’ve sniffed at it, he wouldn’t have wondered.   
Michael on the other hand felt less stressed than actually decently confuesed and surprised and at least equally uncomfortable. Sneaking around the relativly small, but definitely big enough shelter for him and the too big grown labradoodle Jason was by heart, he had a hard time to get what this was about. Did Jason built it for him? For both of them? To make him more comfortable up there, so he would spend more time on the roof? Was it meant in a sarcastic way, though Jason wasn't good with sarcasm but learned fast listening to him. Possibillities over possibillities popped up and his permanently suspicious brain did what it always did. Coming up with several theories about the why and how, no matter how impropable they were or how much his experience told him it would've been most unlikely. Bending forward to take a closer glimpse of the inside, there were some pillows and blankets drapped over the bottom of it, making it appear like the caves of sheets he had built with his sister when he was a child. The main frame was encased with boards on three sides, only leaving the front open and at the inside of every _wall_  a small bookshelf was placed. They were equipped with books Jason must've snatched from the other cabins, otherwise there would‘ve only been guids about things concerning camping, nature and the wilderness. Instead some novels he never had heard of were standing between what appeared like fairy tales. Thinking about the camp as a summer camp for children, story books weren't unusual, though he never was interested in them when he was a child. Now surrounded by wildlife guids with misleading titels, he was graceful for them. Also Jason had placed some candles on one of the shelfes and a pile of matchboxes next to them. Obviously they would run out of candles before of matches. While his gaze wandered and no matter how rudimemtary the whole thing was it really touched something deep inside him, in a twisted and strange way and he felt heat rise up into his cheeks.   
Turning around he gave Jason one of his patented suspicious glares that always included at least one high brow, though his mask always hid it. He had folded his arms in front of his chest and turned his gaze to the ground when he approached his big buddy abashed to his limits and eager to make the walk over last as long as possible. Not that it made it any better. Not for him neither for Jason. While he stretched his sheepish walk, Jason had started to feel an urge rumbling inside him to rip his own nails off and his hair too, if he only had hair.

„You built it for me?“, the god of stretching an embarrassing situation until the border of madness had asked shyly when he arrived a few inches in front of Jason. His eyes remained glued down to the roof's shingles, but from his peripheral view he was able to see the slight nod Jason gave in response. Had he ever felt so embarrassed? No…he hadn't. It was a whole new level of embarrassament, maybe becaurse he wasn’t used to people coming up with something like this. No matter how ungainly or hard as a brick Jason sometimes was, well most of the time, he also was fucking adoreable in a really innocent and true way. It had taken several long moments of shifting his gaze from one to the other side and up to the sky over and over again until the black orbs had locked into the blue ones. When they did, his cheeks and ears were burning and it sure would've been easier to ask him to calculate the probability of snow falling in hell and Satan acting as „ _Mr. Plow_ “, than standing the uncertain glare Jason gave him from under his brows and the task to say something. Give Jason some wings and you would have a totally convincingly angel. Though the wings shouldn't be white, they should match his murderous zombie look, being huge and bad ass with black shiny feathers and highlights of his lake blue energy embedded in them. Picturing this wasn't helping a tiny bit and all he was able to do was to slowly let his forehead sink against Jasons chest. Makes no sense to deny you obviously got bashed, did it?

  
„It's amazing…“, he had whispered and really wasn't able to do more than whisper. If he didn't wanted his voice to shake and take a very unmanly pitch, whispering was the medium of choice. „Why?“, and he had to ask that, he had to. Otherwise his inner control freak would've driven him crazy, not stopping with searching for a reason. Feeling cold fingers run through his hair, Jasons deep voice vibrated from the broad chest over his forehead right into his skull bone. „Caurse I thought you would like to have something comfortable up here…and becaurse…“, Jason also wasn't able to hold his pitch, so he had whispered the last part too, „becaurse I like you.“

 

\------------------

  
After Michael had managed to regulate the temperature of his cheeks and ears down to a normal level again, what had included Jason trying to pull his head up from his chest a few times while he had protested, announced that he can't look him in the eyes and left his head plastered where it was, Michael had spend the rest of the day on the roof. Though he wasn't able to porperly express how great he actually found the nest, it was something the mean little boy inside him enjoyed highly. As a kid he always had wanted a tree house. Not that he hadn't built some hide outs himself, but a real tree house would've been a different thing. While the construction wasn't placed in a tree, the roof was just as good and his inner little fucker of a snotty-nosed brat was more than delighted. It just wasn't some ordinary hide out, it was his hide out, placed high above the ground and the best of all, Jason had built it for him. For him! Specially and only for him! Nobody had ever done something like this. Well, nobody had ever liked him like this…What brought the offending, overanalysing side of him to ask how the fuck it came, that Jason actually liked him. But no, not today he had thought. Maybe today and only for once he should stop with questioning every little bit and suspect everything some one else did as something guileful. At least for today…

So, this is how he came to the decision that Jason definitely deserved a reward. Since he had nothing to give him, no, he won't say that he liked him too or something hearty like that, he had felt enough embarrassed today for at least the next two month, the options were slightly limited. Deciding to sleep with Jason at least was as good as to tell him some corny shit and definitely much easier for him. And it wasn't only a one way thing, it was something he also craved for and would enjoy highly. Not only that he hopefully would get fucked properly after spending the last few years like a nun, well a nasty nun but still, he also would keep control over everything happening. It would be balm for his by embarrassement and returns of childish behavior abused soul. Not that he needed something to show him he was still in control. Michael Myers always was in control!

  
However, when the sun set and Jason had returned from his nightly straying over the camps grounds, his big buddy had joined him up on the roof. Michael obviously had a good view for space, caurse he and Jason both fitted into the nest perfectly as he had guessed. There was enough room to comfortably hang out, but not enough to sit or lay seperately and that was a plus in his eyes too. Michael wouldn't turn into a fluffy, cuddly kitten, but it helped with his plan to get Jason layed for the first time. Not that Jason needed any spatial conditions to want him, but up there, nicely cuddled into the nest, with the candles spending some dim light and all that slushy shit, maybe it would help to not overwhelm Jason and give him a secure feeling. Being cozy and secure doing something as exciting as to fuck for the first time was something at least Jason deserved.

  
\-------------------

  
He really isn't surprised about Jason responding so positively to his question. Certainly the big guy still isn't aware of what will happen, but he for sure is also more than ready for it. Purring: „Good, caurse otherwise I fear I'll lose the rest of my mind…“, in reply of Jasons silent agreement while he gets rid of the dark blue overall completely. Skilled fingers are also doing short work on Jasons jeans and before he has the chance to perhaps help with it ,his aching cock finally jumps free. The relieve of not being trapped anymore alone for itself feels heavenly and draws a deep sight out of him. But he truely should catch a glimpse of heaven this night and think of Michael more as a kind of really nasty angel than a devil. While the smooth body straddles his lap again, one of the slender hands wrap around his right wrist feeling extremely hot against his cold skin. It lifts his hand up to the soft, glistening lips, first lightly brushing his cold fingertips against them until they get sucked into that hungry mouth. And god, it's so hot and slicky and the skilled tongue is sliding around his fingers so eagerly that the heat seems to wander over his arm and stretches into his whole body, setting it on fire. He watches his devil mesmerized and can't help, but to remember the feeling when these sinfull lips and tongue wrapped around his dick for the first time. It caursed him to do a full body jolt and desperately gasp for air while it felt like he was about to melt inside that wet heat. His hands had darted out to hold Michaels head still to allow his brain to comprehend the new sensation. Experiencing his first blow job definitely was something with the danger of becoming addictated to this kind of _playing_ and while he tried not to immediately shot his load, his hands had clenched into the sheets so hard, that he almost ruinated them.

  
Deciding that Jasons fingers are slicky enough now, Michael releases them teasingly slowly from between his lips. It's most likely that his big buddy isn't aware of what's coming next and he really wonders about his reaction. Leaning forward to breath the same air as the huffing Jason, he guids his hand down between his tighs, watching him closely. Through the blue eyes dances a mix of confusion and aurousal, but he gives no resistance neither does he asks what's about to happen. It's a strange and unknown feeling for Michael, but it appears that Jason trusts him and though it's new it milders his nervousness a little bit more.   
He notices fast that he's not used to it anymore. So, when his hand guides Jasons fingers to carefully and gently rub his entrance, he's not able to hold his position anymore. Moaning with his eyes squeezed shut, he hides his face to the thick neck of his big boy, who's curiously watching him, saying no single word. He thought Jason maybe would be hesistant or confused what to do or even try to get out of the situation, but the cold fingers are fastly mimicing his specified movements. Damn, he had totally forgotten how good it could feel when force wasn't a part of it and while Jason slowly increases the intensity of the rubbing, he feels his brain already getting dizzy. It's not enough, it's been so long and his patience goes south joined by his nervousness, both of them happily waving their goodbuy. „Please…“, he mutters against the rotten skin, hoping that Jason gets what he wants him to do, though he's unexperienced like a monk. Knowing that Jason is better in understanding none-verbal signs, he lowers down a bit holding on to the strong shoulders. And yap, after giving him a physical hint, Jason gets it. He's hesitant and cautios, but the second one of his slicky fingers slowly glides into the tight heat, it's gets necessary for Michael to tighten his grip on Jasons shoulders. It's not possible to hold back his huffing and growling and though a slight burn goes along with it, all he can do right now is sinking down more to feel the cold finger deeper inside him. Chewing on his own bottom lip, his hips start to radiate again, pleading Jason to move inside him.

  
And while his devil is getting farther and farther into bliss, the new situation caurses almost so much excietment that Jason is in danger to forget his own name. It was Jadon, wasn't it? His heart is hammering in his chest, pounding in his ears and though he theoretically knows, well had a slight idea of how it works and had fantasized about it since he got to know Michael, it's overwhelming to actually do it. The moaning of his demon echoes through his head and is by it's own caursing his pulsing cock to leak a nice amount of pre cum onto his stomach. He feels a little lost without the previous guidance of Michael, but obviously he wants him to move his finger, though he is afraid that it could hurt the demon. Even if it doesn't sounds like it is anywhere near to hurt. When he does, it's like he had switched Michaels mode from only horny and needy into horny, needy and decently greedy. His moans turn into desperate whines and whimpers while he clings to Jason so hard, it gets difficult to breath.   
„More…oh fuck please…“, and being a confirmed good boy means to do what you get told or asked for. Gently pushing a second finger in, what gets answered with a deep groan and a shiver running through the devils body, his other hand slides up to cup his demons face. He wants to see him. He has to see him. He has to burn this desperate and blissed out side of him deep into his memories. When he manages to push Michael back enough to look into his face, he doesn’t gets dissapointed. Oh no, it possibly is the most alluring view he ever had layed his eyes on. Not only the hazy and lustfilled black orbs are able to get a deep grunt out of him, also the slightly parted lips, the fast heaving of the pale chest and the slight blush that stretch over it are caursing him to let out some not human sounding noises. Not to speak about the demons dripping cock that slightly bounces with every move of his hips and definitely has a hypnoting effect on him.

  
While he adores the view in front of him it gets easier and easier for his fingers to smoothly slide in and out of Michael. Watching his reactions closely, Jason tries to figure out wich movement may feel the best for the greedy demon. After a while it gets more than clear that curling his fingers in and applying some pressure and friction onto the small nub inside him definitely feels best. The devils head flys back and while his hands claw into the flesh of Jasons tighs and his fingernails break the skin, he cries out with a voice that echoes at least through the half of the forest. If anybody would've heared it not knowing what it was, it most likely would've scared the shit out of that someone. The effect on Jason is the opposite one. The more Michael cries out and presses against his fingers, the better he feels with being able to lure such sounds and behavior out of him.

  
Leaning his face into the cold hand that still cups the left side of it, Michaels eyes fall shut. „I need it so bad…“, he moans biting down his lower lip. And bad really isn't getting near to describe how much he wants to finally connect with Jason and fuck like rabbits. When his eyes open up again, he slowly straightens a little bit more and takes a hold of Jasons hand. If Jason keeps on to massage is postate, it definitely would push him over the edge, but it isn't enough. It's so far away from being enough! Getting into position on the possesed lap and carefully placing the wide head of Jasons rock hard cock to his more than thoroughtly opened up hole, caurses the big guys heavy breathing to hitch. Michael pauses when he notices the slight uncertain look the blue eyes are filled with. Not that he usually is the soft and gentle type, but remembering it's Jasons first time, though his big buddy did more than well until now and he really feels like starving to death any second, maybe it’s better to try it gentler and softer for this time. „I need to feel you.“, he whispers before his lips softly lay on the cold ones.   
It's almost too much when Michael sinks down very slowly on Jasons pulsing hardness. His own breathing hitches a few times when it's entering him and stretches him more by every brain frying inch. Keeping on kissing Jason, who as well is moaning into their kiss, he wonderes if it ever ends. It does, sure, but when the big guy is completely burried into him, he has to pause again. Like mentioned it’s been a while, but even if not he definitely would need a few moments to adjust to it's size. He feels the big, equally cold as the rest of his body, dick twitch and pulse inside him while he tries to relax as much as he can. One rapid movement just now and maybe he would get torn into half. Pulling away from the kiss, he takes in some deep breaths and notices Jasons eyes roll back into his head and fall shut, while his cold hands grabbed his hips, slightly pushing him down but not in a forcefull way. No, they're gentle, so fucking gentle. The memory of his own first time crosses his mind, but it's not something he wants to think about now. So, distrecting himself with starting to gently rock his hips, he gets rid of the unwanted glimpse into his past.

Jason meanwhile feels like getting thrown into another universe. Slowly sliding into the unbelievably tighteness makes him feel hot and cold the same time. His breathing hitches and shakes while his cock gets sucked into sliky heat that would be able to melt an ice berg. Sure Michael is a mage, he must be. He made his big dick dissappear and his brain denying it's function with only one trick! Tenderly grabbing the demons hips when he buttoms out, it's difficult to not buck up as fast and hard as he can. The pause Michael takes gives him the chance to come around a little again and catch a glimpse of him. The slender fingers are clawing into his shoulders, while the black eyes are shut and he inhales some deep breaths. Jason is sure this spawn of hell is the most beautiful creature he has ever seen and he longes for him like he had never before.

  
It's funny when you remember something really uncomfortable and though starting to lightly rock his hips and feeling Jason stretch his inner walls even more distracts him a lot, he absently begins to babble. „You know…the last time really wasn't something…that I had enjoyed much…It was like a race…needing to get finished fast…and I really don't know how I come up with it now but…“, leaning his forehead on Jasons right shoulder while his hips take up speed, „…but you…you feel amazing…just amazing…so good…“. His big boy has to know it, he has to know how much Michael enjoys it.

  
Jason hears him, well more or less. Feeling that tight heat clamp around him and starting to work on him robbed his abillity to response differently than to run up his hands on Michaels back and pull him in close. He's not sure if he gets the meaning of the more moaned than talked words right, but honestly? Currently he doesn't gives a shit. The second Michael sank down on him his brain decided to shut down to it's basic workings wich most likely includes such as breathing, eating, sleeping and now added new to the protocol, fucking. It's like they're melting into each other. Not only their bodies, their energies also feel like their melting completely and it's like he had already known Michael his whole life. The insecurity that grabbed him shortly before his cock got literally sucked into that hungry ass vanished into thin air and only left the need for his little demon behind. God, most of all if it was possible he wants to completely crawl into him, creating a new connected being, forever. If he were able to, he would tell Michael that he feels amazing too. That he gives him the best and most intense feeling he ever experienced. By all demons, even that he loves him, but he's not able to do something else than moan out his pleasure while his devil rides him in a slow but for sure, mind blowing pace.  
He still is able to remember, that he isn't allowed to do anything without permission. So, when his own hips start to slightly meet Michaels movements, it's happening completely on auto pilot that he asks for permission using their connection. Though it indeed is possible to communicate through their bond, they normally chose to actually talk to each other. Since this is no option now, obviously his energy decided to jump into action on it's own. Michael meeting his thrusts harder and harder surely indicates that permission got granted. And that's enough to let im straighten up while his hands run through the fuzzy brown hair. His mouth finds the racing pulse at Michaels neck while one hand slides down his back and gives him something to lean on. The other wraps firmly around the devils leaking dick, imitating the pace of his hips. His mind gets blurrier and the deep vibrating moaning of Michael almost vanishes in the thick fog of lust filling his head. „I can't…“, he mutters muffled not able to add „last any longer“ while he literally chews on the pale skin.   
But he doesn't has to anyway. Michael now leaning back into the strong hold is able to feel it clearly. Not only the fasten and deepen of Jasons thrusts, hitting some sweet spots deep inside him, are a good indicator. Also his louder getting moans vibrating on his neck, the way his hands clench and his more and more rapid breathing is tale telling. He hadn't expected Jason to last long, neither himself. „It's ok…“, he chuckles out of breath equally near to the edge, while he grabs a hold around Jasons thick neck, „…take me with you.“ And so he does. Rapidly thrusting into the tight ass even deeper, Michael is able to make out the short moment the so amazing feeling, thick cock swells even more, befor it starts twitching and pumps a big load deep inside him. And damn, if this isn't what he had longed for the last few weeks. Hearing Jason literally roar while he completely melts into him and feeling his cum and energy fill him also pushes the devil over the brink. It's impossible to not press down onto the still twitching lenghts and desperately try to feel even more when his own orgasm shots through his body. Moaning what‘s definitely not sounding human anymore and with his tights clenching hard around Jason, while his fingernails dig into rotten flesh, there's nothing left in this world except his big boy and the waves of pleasure he sends through him. Doing it with Jason sure is something else and he is lost inside the bliss longer than usual.

  
When his fried brain slowly starts to register something else again than pleasure and dizzling energy running up and down every nerve, Jasons lips are worshipping his with tiny and quiet sights escaping from them. The big hands are pressing his slightly shaking and with sweat cover body close to the still cold one. But the loud beating heart and the energy radiating from it sure makes clear that it's very well alive. Even the after shocks last longer than usual. Pulling away from him, Jason hides his face in the crook of the pale neck. „I love you.“, he mumbles absently, inhaling the beloved scent with every, slowlier getting, deep breath. Slender hands lay down on the back of his neck and between his shoulder blades. It takes a while until Michaels smooth voice replies.

  
„I know…“

 


	12. Myers no. 666

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter decided to decently fight me, using it's claws, teeth and shit @.@  
> I'm not happy with it's outcome, though I've spend the last few days with rewriting, rearranging, deleting and putting in new parts.  
> I fear it won't get any better as it is now and we all have to deal with it *bows down* I'm sorry! 
> 
> Also, chapter 13 will take a while until I'll be able to post it. Before I can begin to write it, I'll draw a portrait of the amazing, wonderful, lovely and breathtaking Miss Nina Flowers.
> 
> However, enjoy if you can! If not...nevermind xD

You know the feeling when you're under the shower and some stupid jerk flushes the toilet? The fright of the water suddenly changing it's temperature, either letting icicles grow from your nostrils or boil you like an egg? No matter how hectically you start to fumble for the fittings, you can't do nothing against it and have to wait until the flush is finished. The last few days were so peaceful and nice! It was the first time he and his devil had such a pleasant time and it also was the longest row of days Michael hadn't flipped. Indeed it had been so pleasant, that it was too good to be true or to last longer than for a few days. Now, Jason feels exactly like described when the grim looking boy announces his name is Michael Myers. Chills run up and down his spine, he desperately wishes it to end, but he can't just do nothing about it. However, the boy in front of him shows not the tiniest hint of being afraid or confused or even a little worried. No, he's looking at him with this big dark eyes full of annoyance, brows knitted, lips pressed into a thin line and arms firmly folded in front of his chest while Jason tries to figure out if he perhabs really is in need of a hearing aid yet. Caurse it can't be as he suspects it to be. No matter what strange kind of things had happened the past few month, how unbelievable they were and how they brought him to believe nothing was impossible anymore. **THAT** can't be possible. But as impossible as it seems to be and no matter how many chills it gives him, he has to admit he knows this eyes. Oh and how well he knows them! Over the last month he had seen them in several different states of anger, at least the same amount of annoyed states, filled with meanness and the pure evil, desire and pleasure and even fear. The second he saw them blinking over the edge of the pitfall he had fallen into, he knew it. Every cell of his body was telling him it can't be, but the part that belonged to Michael had known it immediately. While he had roamed the forest earlier, he also had felt an energy very familar to Michael. Indeed so much alike that he had thought it was Michael roaming around too or testing out if he could reach him.

  
So, hearing the boy answering him his name is Michael started the mentioned feeling of getting strucked by fontaines of either ice cold or burning hot water. After the tiny guy claimed a few more times that his name indeed was Michael Myers, Jason had turned mute. Not that he wouldn't know what to say, but what he wishes to say definitely isn't accurate to say in front of a child. Currently he is kneeling in front of the tough little boy and while his brain starts to believe he must be going insain or suffer a really bad infection with a brain mass eating parasite, he watches the boys features more closely. His hair is a tone of chocolate brown with some lighter highlights shining here and there when the light falls on it from different angles. It also is a little long for a boy and fuzzy like if it hasn't got brushed for days. The knitted brows have the same chocolate tone and the almost black eyes underneath them, wich are staring holes into him, are glistening with the same _You want some? Get some!_ -shine he knows so well and are framed by long and thick dark brown eyelashes. Dark circles are slightly drawn around them and they're appearing huge in the small children face. Though they carry the same warning gaze, their size makes the boy appear a little less predartory…a little. His skin is equally pale as the smooth skin Jason has become so addicted to. High cheek bones, though they're appearing round and soft, are sprinkled with some tiny freckles and he wonders, since he never had seen his devil without his mask, if the big Michael has freckles too. It would be so adorable, that if he ever gets aware of it, he wouldn't be able to hold back a high pitched squeak!  
The boys hands are as slender as the ones wich already own Jason since the first time they had touched him. They appear like the hands of a pianist or an artist and while Jason considers them, the tiny fingers are drumming an inpatient beat on one of the slim upper arms. The little body is dressed with a dirty black shirt, a pair of jeans wich are equally dirty, with a few holes ripped into the fabric and a pair of sneekers wich seemingly were supposed to be white, but appear more greyish brown than anything else. Little Michael obviously is a decent litter bug.

  
But is it even possible? And if the answer is yes, is it also true? Maybe he's just dreaming! Yes, dreaming. He must be! But squeezing his eyes shut and pinching himself hard doesn't caurses anything to happen. Except to hurt himself…He wants to wake up, maybe even with Michael closely cuddled up against him in their little nest. It would be so wonderful, would… When he opens his eyes again, the boy still is staring at him. Now with a raised brow as if asking „ _The hell are you doing there?!_ “. Familar, way too familar!

  
\---------------

  
Back at the cabin, big Michael experiences exactly the same row of emotions Jason did in the forest and it appears even in the same order. Jason is able to identify every single one seperately and judging the last expression the dark eyes show off, Michael is near to either get a stroke or get so angry that he soon will melt like heated up lead. No matter wich one will happen, it won't get pretty, not a little bit.

„Where's that coming from?“, the snarling voice snaps and the demon points a sharp finger at the boy who's standing next to Jason near the front door. Immediately one cold hand grabs the shoulder of the little one, working on instinct to defend him. It's not like Jason is afraid of Michael, but only knowing him for more or less the last half a year is enough to be sure cautiousness is nesessarry, very nesessarry when he's pissed. And now, while he approaches them suspiciously slowly, he obviously is maximally pissed. Taking a defending step in front of the boy, Jason tries to explain where _that_ has came from, though he himself has no clue what exactly had happened: „I was on guard and walked through the forest when the ground suddenly gave in. I fell into a pitfall and while I was confused, caurse pifalls aren't common here, I spotted him glimpsing over the edge. Came out that he digged a trap to catch an animal, caurse he couldn't find something to eat out there. When I asked him what his name was, he said Michael Myers. Strange, huh?“.

And while he talkes he has to pace around the boy a few times, caurse big Michael is circeling them to catch a grip of the little one.  
„And what? Where did it came from? What is it doing at the camp and even clearer, just for you darling: What. Is. IT. Doing. In. Our. Cabin.??!“, Lucifer is celebrating his come back and pushes Jason into a corner while angrily poking his chest. The first thing he thinks about to answer is, „ _I don't know_ “, caurse it's true, but the danger of getting jumped and beaten to death is high. So, not wanting to trigger any unfortune reaction, his brain is working on high speed to find a pleasable solution that could calm Michael, while it's getting harder and harder to stand the glare of those furious flickering eyes. Suddenly a small hand grabs the fabric of his jeans and the boy squeezes himself out from behind him, stepping between the two huge slashers. He clears his throat sternly to catch their attention, not even twitching one brow. He's only barely reaching up to Jasons hips, but no matter how tiny he is, specially now while he's standing between them, he sure has courage! Or maybe the affection to overestimate himself, like a other certain someone…

  
„His mom send me here…“, the little one points his thump back at Jason, „…She said I should look out for him and give him some company.“. Now Jason is sure their new guast being a younger version of his devil indeed is true. The way the boy talkes, sounding causual and snappy at the same time and how he stares stone cold right back at Michael, it must be him. Every other child would've burst out in tears and screamed like crazy. But this tiny rascal? It's like he would've been dealing with murderous immortals his whole life. „My mom asked you to give me company?“, Jason asks sounding surprised, earning a look from the big Michael as if he had called out to start the third world war. „Not _you_ , the small you.“, the boy says in a matter of fact tone, doing quotation marks to underline the _you_  and rolls his eyes while he lays his head back into his neck, more or less facing Jason. Again something a certain someone is also affected to. Slowly but steadily it‘s getting creepy…

  
„Oh, his mom told you? His mom is dead you little wise ass!“, big Michael jumps in.

  
„She is, but I can hear her speaking to me regulary.“, Jason insists innocently.

  
„Caurse there's something terribly wrong with you!“, Michaels slender hand waves him off aggressively while his large frame bends over the boy. Fixating the small figure with his death glare, he asks: „Who the hell are you?!“. But little Michael has got balls, caurse he's not only returning the glare, he also takes a step forward almost poking his nose to the white mask. „You.“, he whispers and a wide grin stretches over the small face. Seems like Jason isn't the only one who likes to play with hell fire.

  
„You're lying!“, big Michael hisses at him from between his teeth, without earning any reaction from the tiny smug brat, except that his grin even widens. Oh, it makes Michael furious, it really does! He hears Jason yelp his name when he grabs the boy by the scruff of his neck and drags him over to one of the couches. One swift move, and he's ungently placed onto the furniture. Michael grabs the small face between one of his considerable huge hands, squeezing the soft cheeks he asks again: „Who are you?“.

  
„You.“, the boy replies again, sounding muffled, caurse the big hands are pressing his lips rudely together. His eyes are now shimmering with the same glowing impudence, nice try but it doesn't seems that intimidate him works.

  
„That's not true.“, big Michaeal says, squeezing even tighter.

  
„It is.“

  
„No.“

  
„Yes.“

  
„No!“

  
„I am.“

  
Jason, standing next to the couch, shifts his eyes from one Michael to the other. It's like watching a tennis match, but instead of a ball they're playing with hisses. The smaller version is getting the upperhand, what lets his bigger counterpart grid his teeth until they start to scrunch. „You're hurting my cheeks.“, little Michael complains with a gaze saying „ _stop it or I'll bite one of your fingers of_.“. And it works, caurse the rude hand let go of him, while big Michael exhales an annoyed huff, throws his arms dramatically over his head and starts to pace around across the living area. Maybe he knows the little shit is seriouse to bite him, caurse he maybe would do the same…

  
While big Michael grumbles unidentified sentences under his breath, wich are definitely not family safe, Jason drops down next to the small version of his devil. The tiny hands are rubbing the reddened cheeks, while the black eyes are literally glued to the pacing demon. „You talked to my mom?“, Jason asks quietly.  
„Yeah…She said I should look out for you, but no matter where I looked for you in the forest, I couldn't find you.“  
„Where did you meat her?“. Looking up with his huge black eyes, the boy seems to concentrate really hard. His brows are knitting again and he looks like searching for the right words to describe something really rare when he also sticks out the tip of his tongue. After a while he speaks again: „I don't really know…“, rubbing his chin he continues, „It was dark, hot and damp there and there was no one else. Just her and me. She's a nice mom…“.

  
„Hey! You two idiots!“, Michaels slightly hitching voice interrupts them, „Can you stop with just acting like nothing freaky or strange is happening right now?!“. Waving his hands and doing the _magic fingers_ he approaches the couch again, while both of them are looking at him with widened eyes. He's used to creepy shit. He's used to get visited by his younger self during the nights, the nights! Even to unexplainable things yet, but this now? Nooo, he won't just accept it and pretend everything is nice and normal. Crauching down in front of the boy who's lazily swinging his legs wich are hanging from the couches edge, the demon tries it again. Saying he's having some serious problems with getting what the unholy shit is happening, would be the understatement of the century.

„Come on, little one…who are you?“, and it's hard, oh so hard to hold his voice down on a nearly calm level, when in fact yelling his lungs out would be appropriate. He feels his guts perform an uncomfortable twist and his muscles tense all at once, when the answer is the same as the previous once. Right when he's about to grab the boy, raise him up and ask him if he wants to take a swimming lesson in the lake, one strong and firm hand grabs his shoulder. It's not like he plans to really hurt the little brat, only teach him a lesson and maybe get him to tell the truth, but Jason obviously is not agreeing to his plan.

„Take a close look at him. Maybe he's honest.“, the low voice pleads him, while the grip on his shoulder tightens. Sure why not? As if getting more aware of their similarities would help to make it easier to comprehend...It's not like Michael isn't able to make them out, it's just that his brain isn't able to understand and deal with it. The „ _How's and Why's_ “ are his problem again, as they always are, but seriously? Who the hell wouldn't have problems with something like that?! Maybe Jason is familar with dead people interacting with him, talking to his dead mother and shit, but Michael surely is not!

  
It takes almost fifteen minutes until the demon unfreezes again and jumps up without saying even one word. Jason has waited patientally as always, while little Michael started to humm a song and swing his legs to the beat. After maybe fife minutes he had started to shift back and forth, chewing on his bottom lip. Inpatience obviously is something they also have in common, Jason notes for himself silently. As fast as Michael now is up to his feet, he shoots up the stairs and leaves Jason and his mini-me looking after him in confusion. The boy turns and standing on the couch to look over the back of it, he asks: „Is he always like this?“. When he turns his gaze to Jason that one famously rised eyebrow is showing again.

  
\-----------------

  
It's almost midnight when Jason begins to snore what sounds like a bear during the hibernation. His breathing sounds even throatier than usual when he snores and Michael really wonders everytime how he's able to get enough of oxygen breathing as if someone is constantly strangling him. However it may work, the heaving of the broad chest his head is resting on manages to calm him a little bit more. Though he's wide awake. How should he be able to sleep even for just one second with **it**  down in the cabin? How should he?! It's impossible, but at least he feels secure and comfortable plastered to Jason who's arm is protectively drapped around his waist. They're bedded on the several pillows and blankets the big guy had placed in their nest and though he had first thought Jason had exaggerated, if only one piece would be missing, it wouldn't be as comfy anymore. So much about his rule of not sharing a bed…But fuck it, extraordinary situations require extraordinary actions. And honestly being pressed to the big cold body feels not bad. No, it actually feels pretty good to listen to Jasons noisy sleep, even if he's louder as when he's awake. In another situation Michael maybe would be able to really enjoy it. To let himself relax maybe completely, something he hadn't done for who ever knows how long. Getting lured into sleep by the secure feeling Jasons energy washes over him, but like said in another situation. Now, now it wouldn't even be possible to fully sedate him. No, there‘s too much going on in his head. And that aren't only the How's and Why's wich are alone by themselfs would be enough to drive every mentally healthy person into instant madness.

  
When he had performed his sprint up the stairs, he fled up onto the roof to hide there. Of course he had noticed the similarities between them both. He had seen and felt it the second Jason had shown up with the boy. It was like looking into a mirror. A mean, hurting mirror into the past showing him something he actually wanted to forget about. Something too overwhelming to comprehend at once. It had scared him deeply to take a look into that dark eyes knowing exactly what was lurking behind them. Also the aura surrounding the boy was uncomfortably simular, not loaded with the same furious flames just yet, but still. Anyways, this boy being him meant the flames soon will burn him entirely and only leave ashes behind. In some twisted way he was like a phoenix, he had thought with a deep sight before Jason showed up on the roof. Burned to ashes to rise up again, stronger and greater than ever before. But in his case it wasn't stronger or greater, he had become more twisted, insain and doomed.  
When Jason had joined him in their nest, Michael had rolled himself up into a small ball. Cowering there between pillows and blankets with his knees up to his chin and his arms tightly clamped around them, it had taken Jason a good while to make him even look at him, not to speak about unwrapping out of his position. The feeling of falling apart had hit it's sharp claws into him again, injecting the well known helplessness and desperation into his soul and if he wouldn't pull together into a small package, Michael had felt like everything would slip away from him. Cautiously crawling into the nest too, Jason had told him the boy was sleeping now. After Michael had left them alone, Jason had given him something to eat. Though the tin can was nothing special the boy had literally breathed it in. Jason had been deeply impressed, caurse his Michael used to eat like a sparrow. He also had answered some more questions the boy was perforating him with, obviously glad to have someone to talk to. After a while of being a waterfall of communication, making sure Jason had received detailed knowledge about everything that had happened in the forest and that he had been there already for the last three days, little Michael had announced that he was tired and needed to sleep. So, caring as he is, Jason had snatched a blanket and a pillow from one of the unoccupied bedrooms and arranged an improvised bed on one of the couches downstairs. He hadn't dared to bring the boy upstairs, fearing Michael could blow up like a powder keg, if he becomes aware of it. And Michael had confirmed he was right by giving him an unpleasant sounding growl while listening to him. After little Michael had cuddled up under the blanket, Jason had waited until the little one was fallen asleep and had made sure that nothing could harm him before he got up to the roof and left him alone. Seemingly the big guy wasn't just immensly protective with Michael, he also had immediately worked up the same amount of protection for little Michael. He wouldn't admit it, not even now feeling as miserable as he hadn't in a really long time, but Jason caring for him so much had already become something he was deeply afraid of possibly losing someday. It was something his soul had always longed for, but how he does know his luck, he certainly will lose it. Sooner or later…

  
While listening to the rumbling voice wich had the surprising ability to calm him, Michaels head was buzzing and aching as if a group of tiny midgets was dancing riverdance inside it. Not that he wasn't used to headaches, but this one was only an inch away from literally splitting his head into half. It burned in his eyes and drummend in his ears, not to mention the blades wich were delicately sliding in and out his temples. He would've done almost everything to get some painkillers right now, almost…But specially something he desired so desperately right now was of course no where to find. It was so typical. Literally the story of his life! Oh, poor Michael desires some painkillers? I’m sorry, but that's not possible! And then life gives him a warm handshake and some tic tacs, telling him to hang on. It always had been like this and you could replace the painkillers with everything you could possibly imagine, it would be impossible to get if he needed it and life would poorly fake to be sorry.

  
„Do you still think he's a liar?“, Jason had asked him after a while of only giving him silent company. Burrying his face behind his knees, it had taken him a some time to answer and when he did, it was so quietly, Jason almost missed it.

  
„No…I know who he is. I mean, I guess I know…Fuck, I don't know what I know…“

  
His big buddy had only hummed low and slightly nodded his head. Michael had been glad that he renounced to keep on talking. His head would definitely burst into a thousend splinters of bones if he had to keep on talking. Also all memories he had managed to successfully repress, were coming back again. They were flickering up in front of his inner eye like uncomplete film tapes, where parts were missing or were blurry, while others were intensly vivid. He hadn't told Jason about it, they had remained silent until he had dropped his head onto one of the strong shoulders. It had taken him the last bit of his strenght to fight back the rising of an embarrassing feeling, but it was worth it. Leaning against Jason had immediately caursed their energies to flow into each other. The cool one had wrapped around his like a calming blanket and his had accepted the embrace gratefully. He hadn't noticed it until then, but he was exhausted. His buzzing head had started to feel so heavy as if every thought was made out of granit. It had felt unbelievably relieving to lean it onto that strong shoulder, taking away the pressure from his neck. Also his energy had become less burning and flickering. It had felt like thick sirup, only moving very slowly and weakly. The moment Jasons water-like one had tenderly surrounded it, it had started to feast on it. Like literally drinking it in with a thurst almost insatible and Jasons had offered itself willingly. Even then, Jason hadn't said one more word. He had only ran his fingers through his demons hair and placed a light kiss on the top of his head. Usually Michael would've protested, but this time his tough side lost the battle and he had finally given in, nuzzling to Jasons chest when he had unwrapped out of his defensive tenseness. There hadn't even been a need to ask for it. The moment he pressed against Jason, the strong arms had slid around him tightly and shielded him from the rest of the world. It had felt like nothing would be able to harm him there. No matter what freaking shit storm would break lose, Jason would protect him fiercely.

  
Now laying there with Jason fallen asleep but still holding him, he feels like someone who has to decide between life or death. What to do now? Where did his younger self come from? Why was it here? Who was the puppet master pulling the strings behind the certain? There must be someone. Jasons mother? But why? And how? Really, how was it even possible? All of it! Everything that had happened since he came here…And even how he came here! Frowning he presses his face into the calming coolness of Jasons body. This whole mess caurses his head to spin and most of all he just wants to faint now.  
Also, how came it that the big guy was dealing with the sudden appearance so much more easier than him? Actually he should be freaked out at least on a considerable level. Maybe it was becaurse he is that ridiculous spontanous type of person…But for sure also becaurse he has no clue what the small boy will go through and already has gone through. Neither about the beast that is awakening inside him. Sure, Jason knows what he had become, but he isn't aware of the process it took, neither does he knows about his entire self. But Michael knows it. Every little terrible detail of it and now all this memories are becoming so vivid, he has no idea how to stand it anymore. „Jay…“, he whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching into the fabric of Jasons shirt. Feeling the massiv desperation of the past again caurses hot tears to run down his cheeks, hidden by the white mask.

  
\------------------

  
„Listen little one. The only reason you're still here is the big kind-hearted guy up on the roof. If it would go by my will, I already would've snapped your weak neck and thrown your dead body into the lake. Unfortunately it would upset Jason, so you're lucky, very lucky that I'm not interested in upsetting him.“, pointing up to the ceiling his gaze had remained fixed to the black round eyes wich were rebelliously staring right back, „But that doesn't means I'm happy with having you sneak around here. If you're smart and I know you are, you'll avoid to make me pissed. You will behave, you won't caurse any chaos, you won't annoy me or Jay and you will do what you get told to do. Got it? Caurse…“, one big hand grabbed the hair at the back of the boys head and pulled it back slightly but firmly, „…Jason or not, upsetting him or not, I'll make you disappear forever in under a minute.“.

But the second he had told the little brat to behave and don't caurse any chaos, he had known how ridiculous that was. It was like telling a fish to stop swimming or a lion to stop hunting. Something that definitely wouldn't happen, but as good as he had known the kid, maybe he would act differently in this situation dealing with two immortal killers. It would be close to a miracle, but what else should Michael do than hope and try? He knew how testy he was able to get already as a child, he knew how guileful he was and how he had learned all this behavior to protect himself. There was no other option than to hope for the best and pray to hell the worst hopefully wouldn't happen.  
When his little version had inhaled a breath and was just about to begin to babble out his protest, his index finger had darted up and pushed against the soft lips. „That is nothing you are allowed to discuss over. Either you'll listen to me or you'll deal with the consequences. I know the urge well, very well that's rising up inside you now, telling you to protest and complain, using everything you have, but swallow it down! No matter how strong it is, keep it down. And by the way, it's your fault I had a terrible night with only maybe thirty minutes of sleep. So, my patience is more than limited today.“

After that and after he had released the boys head out of his grip, the color of the little ones face had turned from light rose, to red, to glowing red and eventually to an unhealthy looking tone of purple. Frowning with his cheeks puffed up, he obviously had a very hard time to fight his need to say anything smug. Before the fuzzy haired head had nodded slightly, Michael had thought the boy would explode any second, but instead a huge exhale of air followed the nod sounding like releasing air from a balloon. „Fine.“, was all little Michael spat, the anger still more than visible in the small face and narrowed eyes. Folding his arms in front of his chest, he stomped over to the couch he had slept on and flopped onto it so hard, he had bounced up again. His face had remained looking like an angry garden gnome and he huffed like a locomotive, but to Michaels great surprise he really had managed to hold his temper down. No yelling, no trying to disscuss, no throwing a tantrum, no biting and scratching nothing. Something unbeliveable difficult to actually manage for the young one, he knew way too well.

  
Michael had left him sulking and taken a seat at the wide terass door. Actually he had planned to read, but concentration wasn't his friend currently and he had ended up with lazily turning through the pages, not really reading what was written there and instead glimpsed up at the boy every other second. When he woke up in the morning, he had decided that, no matter how fucked up this whole show was, he unfortunately wasn't able to do anything about it. And it bugged him, oh how it bugged him! He wasn't ok with the situation not a single bit, neither would he act like everything was nice and sweet, but at least he would try to deal with it. Ot better he had to. What else should he do? Killing the little one would most likely bring Jasons dislike over him, becaurse of his ridiculous protective instinct and leaving the camp wasn't an option either. Actually there were only two options: Deal with it, no matter how or lose your mind and spend the rest of your life as an hermit in the forest with a pissed Jason hunting you.  
Watching the little one, he had wondered what the still pissed and pouting brat might already had been through. Judging by his size, he was around six years old. The exact age his already fucked up life had escalated terribly during that years halloween night. But since the little one hadn't refused to talk and seemed to be still more than energectic, it obviously hadn't happened yet. Neverthless, he already had experienced years of disregarding and abuse. Also the one thing, that had almost managed to push him into suicide and he never had told anyone about. Not even Jay. It was so surreal, so strange to look into the face of his younger self, knowing what already had happened and what was still to come. Experiencing the smugness and tough attitude from the other side, though he was aware of how he was acting back then. It was frightening and his chest had clenched hard every time he glimpsed up from the book. He knew the little one would disappear and surrender to the beast deep within. It would devour him and erease him from the face of the earth forever. And there was nothing Michael could do. No matter that he was sure even if he wanted to prefend him from losing his mind it wouldn't work, caurse how should he be able to change the past? Michael still wished it would be possible to save him or at least redeem him as long as it was still possible.

  
\-----------------

  
The sun is standing in the right angle to shot some warm rays into the nest. Feeling the nice warmth gently touching his corpse cold skin, Jason slowly comes around. He sights deeply when he rolls over and hides his face into one of the pillows. No matter how late in the day it is, waking up completely always takes him some time. Michaels scent sticks to the pillow like somebody would've had sprayed it onto it like an expensive parfume and he can't fight to inhale it as deep as possible. _Myers-no.-666_ definitely is his favorite scent! Though it's hard to describe it's smell. It's masculin, but not intrusive. The smell of the forest is mixed into it as well as something sweet he has no clue what it may be. Honestly he doen't knows anything else that smells even considerable. But what he knows for sure is, that he's addicted to it. With every deep breath he takes, the feeling of secureness and something that feels very fluffy floots his whole body. The scent of his devil truly has the ability to make him feel a little high. Something that doesn't helps a bit with waking up and get his brain to work on a decent level. On contrary, it turns his head blurry and dizzy and while his face is firmly pressed into the pillow, he remembers how this wicked scent had aroused him when they had fucked for the first time a few days ago. Michael had said it had something to do with pheromones and biology, but he hadn't understand it fully.

But it doesn't bothers him at all, all what concerns and interests him is it's amazing effect. However, bringing the memories back alive again and inhaling that mind blowing scent, lets his cock become the most awaken part of his body. He moans quietly when he rolls back onto his back, pulling the pillow with him. Eyes still closed, the view he was allowed to adore that special night appears in front of his inner eye again. How the pale skin had catched the glow of the moon, covered by a glistening film of sweat that made Michael not only appear as if he was glowing but also sparkling. The shadowy contures every muscle had drawn and how they had twitched with every tiny movement underneath the smooth skin. That sinfull pair of lips, rose and either delicately bitten or slightly parted. Or even better, pressed onto his, feeling so soft and carrying Michaels taste wich was so alluring as if it was the first thing he ever had tasted. His tongue wich matched the liquidness of his body moves. Tenderly and greedily gliding against his, pleading him to join the dance and he had joined in. Oh, he hadn't even another choice. It would've been useless to try to fight it, not that he had wanted to, but even if he would've tried, it sure hadn't worked anyways. Michaels tongue had still felt so unfamilar hot inside his mouth, getting even hotter the farther they had gone. And not only his tongue, the demons whole body had felt like it would caurse burn marks on his cold skin wherever their bodies touched. Then the devils black eyes that were filled with an entirely new expression. He had known them in an aroused state, but that night, there had been more flickering through them. When their eyes had met, they had shown him strong desire and even when they looked hazily into nothing, while Michael had lost himself in the bliss, they were loaded with pleasure and need for him. How the slender hands first had wandered so gently over his body, caursing him to shiver more than once and then had clawed deep into his skin. Both, Michaels teeth and fingernails had left slight marks behind and Jason had caught himself a few times during the following days absently sliding his fingers over the ones on his neck. It felt good, not only the sweet pain when Michael had given them to him, also to be marked by his devil. For the first time in his life he had regretted to have increased healing abilities. Unfortunately the marks hadn't lasted for long, but as a pity it was, it also meant Michael had to mark him up soon again. Something he already longed for deeply.

Losing himself more and more in his memories, his hand has slid down onto his now wide awake cock. It's screaming out it's morning greating by twitching and pulsing for attention and while masturbation never wasn't something he had an urge for, now drowning in remembrence and with his head filled with the devils scent deep into every corner, it is too pressing not to. Slightly strocking along the outlines of his grown excietement lining up under the fabric of his jeans, his breathing deepens and the slideshow inside his head continues. Having a good memory really is something useful. Every detail has been burned in permanently. Michaels sweet whimpers, his lustfull moans, every fluid move his body had taken including that wickedly circeling of his hips. Remembering the moment when Michael had joined him tripping over the edge, draws a deep growl out of him followed by a weakly sight. If someone would put a gun to his head and he would've been forced to describe the feeling, he definitely would end up with a nice smoking hole shot into his skull. It was just the best and most intense sensation he ever had felt. Feeling Michaels inner walls clamp around him, eager to milk the last tiny drop out of him with the demon moaning his head off in a voice arousing and frightening the same time… There aren't no words in any language existing to describe what he had felt.

  
It also wasn't only the physical part, though this part seriously had hit him like a wracking ball. No, the emotions they had shared were burned deep into his brain too, remaining there forever. He isn't sure if Michael is aware of it, but the more they had lost themselfs in their shared pleasure, the wider their connection got. It had allowed him to sense more of Captain-has-no-feelings actual emotions than ever before. There had been fear, much of it. Actually so much that he had wondered how Michael managed to not act like a paranoid jitterbug the whole time. He did regulary, but with this ammount of fear inside, actually he shouldn't be able to hold it down. Some of the chills wich had run up and down his spine that night were caursed by that exteme fear. It had felt like it was about to freeze him to death and his chest had clenched thinking about it afterwards. He had only felt it for a short moment and it wasn't something he was eager to feel again, but Michael must feel it constantly. As frightening this feeling was, it had helped him to get a better understanding for Michaels immens strong self defense. How else should someone act, feeling like freezing to death from the inside every minute of his life and constantly being trapped in alarm mode?  
But right inside the thick concentration of fear, sadness and raging anger, there had also been something soft. Something that had sent a secure and tender feeling over the strings of their connection. It had felt comfortably warm and no matter what kind of emotion it may was, it still was alive within all this darkness. Getting closer to their release, Michaels energy had send pulsing waves of that emotion right into his one. And while he literally had pumped his demon full of his pleasure, Michael had done the same to him only on another base.

  
Meanwhile his hand has found the way inside his pants and while his brain slowly but steadily shuts down even more and only leaves a thick blur behind, suddenly the nice time he spends with himself and Michael inside his head is rudely interrupted. A shrilling screech rises up from the cabin, followed by booming swears definitely not suited for teens under eighteen. Shooting up into a sitting position, he remembers little Michael. Little Michael is there with them since yesterday and now obviously is alone and unobserved with his older and way stronger self. Getting aware of them being alone lets his guts clench and he fears the worst. Dashing up with almost light speed, well for his still sticky brain it feels like, he crosses the attic rapidly and though one of the roof beam greats his skull good morning with a nice headbutt, he is down the small ladder within just a few seconds. It's a wonder that he made it without breaking all of his bones, but when he hears the screeching again, all he can worry about is that Michael possibly is killing the little one. Christ, he's a psychopath after all! An alluring and very hard to resist psychopath, but a psychopath! Right now he most of all wants to kick his own ass for calmly sleeping on the roof and mindlessly enjoying himself, while the two of them were alone together. Hell it is like leaving a lamb and a wolf locked up into the same room. Not that little Michael is as innocent and soft as lamb, but considering his size and strenght to the demon‘s makes the comparison work perfectly.

  
After sprinting down the hallway, he localizes the screaming coming out from one of the large bathrooms. Grabbing the doorframe so hard that splinters are crackling under his fingers, he swings through the door, ready to jump right into the worst case szenario. „Hold still!“, Michaels voice echoes from the tiled walls and first Jason sees only a pulk of legs and arms fidgeting on the white floor. The little one screeches like getting literally stepped, while Michael tries to grab a hold of him and growls out some more swears.

„The hell are you doing here?!“, Jason yells but none of the two Michaels pays him any tiny bit of attention. The whole scene looks like if someone is trying to wrestle down an alligator and this alligator obviously is very skilled in avoiding to get pinned down. Wiggling and fidgeting, the small one manages to slip out of the demons grip and crawls fastly into the direction of the door, where Jason is standing still more than confused about this whole mess. Big Michaels eyes are burning with rage when he performce a jump out of his crauched down position and, using his entire body lenght, manages to grab a hold of the little ones calfs. „Oh, no! You stay here!“, he spits while little Michael exhales his deafening screeching again and starts to kick out like a mini horse. When the devils black eyes shortly look up while busy with not getting kicked right into his face, they meet the blue once wich are staring down at them widely from behind the mask. It's not like Jason is good in giving facial expressions, the mask anyways always hides any, but now confusion is written across his face in big, black, underlined letters. Michael could swear he even has raised one brow while the other is knitted.

  
„Would you please stop being so fucking useless and help me out here?!“, the demon hisses, trying to burry the small wiggling body underneath him.  
Crauching down, Jason still isn't sure what the actual fuck is going on, but a high pitched screamed „NO!“, so shrill that it hurts his ears stops the process of figuring it out. Little Michael is flexible as a snake and like one of that scaly little fellows, he wriggles out from under his big self, jumps up and bumps right into the same spot at Jasons head wich was greated by the roof beam earlier. He dashes out of the bathroom like running for his life. His bare feet are making loud patting noises on the wooden floor when he rapidly crosses the hallway and stomps down the stairs.

„What the hell were you doing here??“, Jason asks again, rubbing his head that is nicely aching now. When he carefully turns his head back to look at Michael, his devil looks like he is about to errupt like a vulcano. The demon is shaking slightly and though the mask Jason is able to tell his jaws are clenched tight, almost to the limit of his teeth stability. He doesn't answers him with words, he only snarls like an angry dog, but his right hand raises up and waves a hairbrush right into Jasons face.

 


	13. Easy going

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason gets unmasked, Michael experiences some new feelings and for a few days, everything is nice and easy again.
> 
> This chapter is about the days before little Michael appeared. You don't have to read it to keep up with the story, but if you're bored enough go on xD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry! I'm late I know and I'm terrible I know too D: Please forgive me!  
> But I've got good excuses, I really do!  
> First the portrait of Miss Nina took me three days, second one of my last two wisdom teeth decided to get infected. Sooo I'm eating painkillers right now like others eat candy. Also it's incredible hot since the beginning of the week and I feel like trapped in an oven. On top CSD is taking place saturday and I had to organize everything into the last detail, to avoid unwanted surprises.  
> Good excuses right? Rigth!
> 
> Enjoy the chapter :D

With a light headed Michael straddled on his lap, Jason couldn't be happier right now. They're sharing playful kisses and bites, while the orange glowing sun slowly sets behind the trees. It looks like it's sinking in the lake and lets it's surface beautifully glisten in several different shades of red and orange. He's sure it matches the appearance of his demons energy, but as beautiful as it is, Michael tops it with ease. It's not only the way he tenderly deepens their kiss or the cute little moans slipping out of him. Not even how his burning energy slowly but sternly invades Jasons body, caursing him to shiver slightly. No, the most beautiful thing about him is his currently lightened up mood. Since two days, he's softer and calmer as usual. And Jason knows exactly why the demon got gently as a kitten. A really fluffy and energetic little kitten. Two days ago they had their first time and it appears like it affects Michael at least as much as him. Not only their bodys had connected, also their energies did entirely. Sience would be highly impressed about melting fire and water into each other, but this little experiment would remain between them. Since then it's like the devils head is stucked up high in the clouds and damn, the last days were so nice and easy, Jason wishes it to stay like this forever. Who cares how the demon came here? Who cares that they're trapped at the camp? Or that the camps atmosphere still is feeling strange and heavy even though he got used to it during the last month?

  
Who ever cares, it's not him. He would love to spent the rest of his immortal life with the devil in his new _easy-going-_ mood right here at the camp. Only the both of them, spending their days peacefully side by side, protecting the camp together and their nights one on one, like the last days. It would be awesome! But, caurse there always is a **but** , Jason fears that some freaked shit will destroy the new easyness and everything will become even stranger than before. No, actually he's pretty sure about it and it will happen sooner than later and that's why these days are so precious to him. Right now, everything is perfect and nobody would do any good by daring to ruin it.

  
He doesn't even cares that he's not wearing his mask right now. Yes, he did it! Mr. Hockeymask-Killer had dared to take it off. Well, to let it get taken off after getting tricked again, but he guesses that's just a facet of his demon he has to handle, somehow… First it had felt as if he had to perform a striptease in public, but soon Michael had washed away all insecure thoughts from out of his mind and replaced them with thoughts about how much Jason needed him. One of Michaels numerous abilities concerning him, his mind and behavior was to push his self confidence. While most of the demons nasty magic tricks were mostly meant to get what he wanted, some of them comforted Jason in a not to be despised way. Concerning the mask, Michael anyways most likely would've continued with being a huge pain in the ass, curious as shit about what‘s hiding underneath it. And damn, he was good in sweet talking the big guy into things he actually doesn't approved. When they had taken a stop at the lakes shore, it hadn't taken long until the devil had started to work his dark magic on him. As soon as his slender fingers had slowly slid under Jasons shirt to pull it over his head without any farther explainations, the smooth voice had began to babble about his mask, how the devil loved his injured lips and how they displayed his teeth. Yes he really used the word _love_! Remembering it, that definitely was the first hint of something coming his way, but the king of despicableness of course made sure Jason wouldn’t notice anything until it was too late. Indeed it was hard to concentrate on what Michael had been saying, when the same time his elegant body had climped onto Jasons lap and his hands roamed his rotten body wherever they could reach. Thinking about nothing bad they had started caressing each other and also Jasons cold hands had quickly found their way under the dark blue overall. For a while, when he had closed his eyes and instead used only his hands to visualize the tempting shape of the devils upper body, he had only heared the sound of Michaels voice anymore. No specific words, only that smooth, dark, slightly vibrating melody wich dripped off that irresistablr pair of rose lips like liquid velvet. Indeed the sing-sang pitch Michael had mixed into it had caursed Jason to get so calmed and soothed, that he also overheared the following hints of something coming his way. He was right about to shove down that offending piece of fabric from the pale shoulders, when it had hit him like a punch into the guts.

  
Pulling away and leaning back as far as possible, he had given Michael a confused look, asking a high pitched: „What?“. Maybe he had missunderstood him, hypnotized by the alluring sound of the lascivious voice echoing in his ears, while caressing the distracting body. But no, he hadn't. „I want to see your face.“, Michael had repeated still sounding unbelievably innocent, while a not so innocent smile tucked on the corners of his lips. God, how had he been able to miss that?! Michael trying to sound as innocent as possible must mean he was up to something! But yap, he had overseen it like he had overseen it a few times before. With his dump brain jinxed by the demon and intoxicated with his sneaky, manipulating witchcraft! Like he had noticed during their first little fights, Michael must posses the operation manual for his brain.

  
Instinctively Jasons hands had dashed up to his face, pressing the mask firmly in place in case Michael would try to take it off. Waves of a stinging sensation had washed over his body and though it wasn't possible it had felt like his body temperature had increased at least about ten degrees. With wide eyes showing off nothing but anxiety and insecureness, he only had rudely shaken his head no. So hard that it made him dizzy, but interacting with Michael was tricky and alone by itself had the potential to make him feel dizzy. Not that the demon wasn't able to understand non-verbal or verbal communication, on contrary, he was a grand master in manipulating someone using the exact right words or his very more than persuasively body language, but most times he just doesn't gave a shit. As sneaky as he was, he wouldn't say it out loud, oh no, instead he started to slowly dig deeper and get dangerously guileful.

  
Following Jason who leaned back at least an arm lenghts, his fingers had carefully slipped under one side of the still pressed in place mask. Stroking and exploring the rotten skin underneath it, he had stated casually: „You know I don't give a fuck about it, right? No matter how your face looks. It can't be worse than the rest of your body.“. Yap the last sentence wasn't nice, but even with his new light mood the snappyness stayed right where it belonged. Though saying he doesn't gives a fuck was only half of the truth. He indeed wouldn't care about the possibly damage of his big slashers face, but he gave a huge fuck about his curiousity. „Let me see it.“, he had whispered, letting his hand slide up to adoringly stroke down the deformed back of Jasons head.

  
Jason had given him another firm headshake, feeling all the insecurities and fears from the past rising up again. It clenched his chest and throat tightly, while the stings running over his body got even intenser. It had felt like a state of ants had decided to use him as their new home and distracted by thousand irrational thoughts it had taken him a while to also notice his rapid breathing and cold sweat covering his body. Deep within, though he now would just slash their damn throats, he still was that little helpless boy getting mocked and attacked, becaurse he was different. He hadn't expected Michael to act in the same way, but the funny thing about fear is it often comes in an irrational and pointless form. And specially this fear of repeating the torment of the past again, made him want to immediately jump up and run until no one could harm him anymore. It really was a nasty little bitch, filling his head with memories he had stored deep, very deep into a locked department of his mind. As a kid, his mom would've consoled him while he was seeking shelter in her embrace…as a kid. Now, she only kept talking to him inside his head from time to time and the only one who possibly cared for him and would offer him shelter was Michael.

  
Using his chance with Jason temporarely distracted by his memories, said demon had slowly and very cautiously slid up the mask at least so far, that he revealed his big buddys face downwards from the bridge of his nose. Well, actually there wasn't a nose. The bone of it's bridge was still intact, but the soft tissue obviously had rotten away a long time ago. Letting the tips of his thumbs brush over the cold skin, he had strocked over the equally rotten cheeks, admiring the spots where pieces of the white cheeckbones were exposed. He wasn't sure what it was, but he just adored the uniqueness of that body with it's rotten skin, revealed bones, bulging scars and deep wounds. Maybe becaurse you don't get to see and touch a living dead every day or maybe becaurse it served his affection for everything morbid, but whatever it may was, every scar, every wound and every deformation made the big guy more and more tempting to him. The feeling of the dead skin, thicker and roughter as normal, almost like some kind of leather. The coldness of the soft flesh underneath it, feeling as if he was diving his hands into the water of the lake everytime he clawed into it. And also the lake it was, what was dominating the big guys scent. Smelling like wet soil, mixed with that special smell only natural waters carry. Minding the rotten body, you would've guessed he smelled worse than a corpse stuffed into a dumpster in summer, rotting and decomposing two weeks while constantly standing in the bright sun. But he doesn't, no, the typical sweet smell of death only barely stucked to him. Only so much, that Michael was able to make out it's unmistakeable heavy scent and to actually enjoy it in some twisted way.

  
When Jasons hands suddenly pressed down the mask onto his face so hard, Michael wasn't able to sneak it up only an inch more, the demon had used his mentioned ability to use words like others used keys. „Come on, don't be a coward…“, that caursed Jason to push even harder and bare his teeth, but Michael continued knowing exactly what he had to say, „…You know how much I love your uuumm… _special condition_. Did I ever complained about it? Or said something inaccurate?“.

Waiting a while, eventually Jason had slightly shaken his head again. „Remember our first kiss?...“, his demon had asked teasingly, leaning in to barely brush his lips over the firmly pressed together ones, „…I said there was no reason to be ashamed, didn't I?“. Slightly nodding, Jason had literally felt Michaels manipulation crawling into him and making itself comfortable, but as much as his panic was raging and telling him he was in great danger, Michael danced around it like some kind of ninja avoiding traps. „And I kissed you and worshipped your uniquness several times. You really still think I would be offended or disgusted by your face? Or make fun of you? If so, you still don't know me right, my big boy.“

  
And that had been it. The magic constellation of words wich picked the lock and incited Jason to show he very well knew his demon right. No use to try to stay strong or keep on hindering Michael from pushing up his mask completely. No, everything had vanished, faded into a state of no resistence and a pressing want to proof he knew him. Although Michael was right. He had never complained or said something stupid concerning his state. Neither had he ever given the slightest hint to be disgusted or aversion. In contrast, he had always been curious, fascinated and had examined his body closely, indeed worshipped it and seemed to truly adore him. Feeling the mask slowly lifting up from his face, Jason had remembered a few situations showing off Michael really doesn't bothered about his uglyness one bit. Maybe not even categorize it as uglyness, who knew? The times when his slender fingers traced down his spine, slowly circeling every exposed vertebra. When they got intiminate and the demon tenderly kissed the scars drawn across his chest. How he used to take his own kind of care with the several deep wounds. Literally licking them clean and how addicted he seemed to be to his blood. This memories, thought they were still fresh and not as numerous as the ones about his past, also additional had pushed him more.

  
A blink of an eye before the demon had lifted up the mask eventually, Jason had grabbed the slender wrists and shakily insisted: „I want to see you too…“, sounding so frightened and paniced that Michael actually felt sorry for him. Only imagine these nasty little dumbasses mocking and making fun of his breath taking slasher warrier had caursed his blood to boil and started an itch to snap their damn necks one by one. Later he definitely had to ask if the big guy had punished them accurately. If not, oh well Heddonfield wouldn't be his only destination anymore! But in that moment, everything that mattered was finally being able to see Jasons face, to get to know what was always hidden by the mask. No matter how he would look like, Michael was sure he would be as interested and thrilled as with the rest of the big guy. „You will, later…“, he had murmured quietely, too busy with finally shoving up the mask entirely to really get what he had promised there.

  
It wasn't a common thing to get him speechless, no it really wasn't. Usually, he always knew what to say even if it only was yelling swears wich made no difference or spit out a comment hitting way under the belt, but this sight, it had taken his speech for several long moments. How could he describe the sensation that had raced through him? Adoration? Awe? Fascination? Surprise? Maybe all of them together. When he was a kid, his mother had told him you watch with your eyes, not with your hands. And while he always had that sometimes dangerous urge to touch everything instead only watching it, this one time he did how she had told him all this years ago. The first thing that has catched his gaze were Jasons insain blue eyes. The masks always had layed shadows on them, but now they were so unbelievingly blue and bright as if he hadn't ever seen them before. They were full of terror, desperately staring back at him from under strongly knitted brows, becoming more and more insecure the longer he had remained silent. If everything concerning the big guys body was about to die, these eyes certainly weren't! They were very well alive and damn, they also were the most beautiful shade of blue he had ever seen!

  
Actually, he could've had spent the rest of the evening only staring into them and losing himself in the rich blue. The frightened gaze also had suited them so perfectly, it would've been absolutely no problem to give him a boner from only watching their intense reflection of pure fear. Jasons rapid breathing and nervously shifting hadn't helped with his excietment either, but however, there was more to see than only the tale telling eyes. Ignoring the twitching of his crotch and the rising urge of a predator to hunt down it's pray, the demon had focused his gaze, watching the whole face showed off only to him. Indeed it wasn't to oversee that the deformations were serious and even impaired Jason. While his right eye was ok…more or less, the left one wasn't able to open fully. Something he had already noticed though the mask, but now he got aware why. A bump of the skull bone deformed the eyesocket, squeezing without much space left and also placed it lower than the right one. Also the forehead wasn't formed as it was supposed to be. All together, with the cheekbones, jaw and the rest of Jasons head, it was obvious that mother nature hadn't gave a fuck about propper proportions creating him. All in all it was more like a van gogh painting, but hey! People pay an ass full of money for his paintings! Adding the features caursed by the rotting skin, you have a von gogh with special effects. What more could an art lover wish for?!

  
While he had still remained absolutely silent in amazement and fascination, the urge to touch everything, to make sure it indeed was real, had returned and both of his hands cupped the unique face. Feeling Jason tense under his touch had ripped him out of his adoreration. Reassuringly carressing the cold skin, Michael had eventually leaned his forehead to the deformed one. „Don't you ever dare to let someone tell you, you should be ashamed again.“, he had whispered sternly squeezing the face between his palms.

  
\----------------

  
And there it went his light mood. It was smiling and waving, while it left him quickly. With all his protective and caring instincts activated and as stunning it is, he really has any, Michaels most important mission for the evening has become to make Jason feel that he indeed was a very special and worthfull being. This kind of instincts getting awakened inside him is something he definitely isn't used to, but once they surfaced it was nothing he would be able to ignore. Continuing to kiss his buddy after he had taken off his mask, the demon had to think about Jasons past over and over again. Oh, he is easily able to imagine the suffering Jason lived through. Being different, being an outsider, getting treated like filthy dirt becaurse of what or who you are. Things Michael knew all too well and while he couldn't help it, but to also vividly imagine the other kids mocking and bullying little Jason, mentioned rare, protective mechanisms took over. If he only would've known him back then. If he would've been there, mocking Jason would’ve been something some one only dared to try once. There are several things you only do ones. Eating fly agarics for example or playing baseball with grenades. Hurting Jason would've got added to this sort of things. His short temper paired with his natural talent to get into trouble and on top the increasing affection for Jason, it would've definitely resulted in beating up everybody who would be dump enough to take a try. If they would've only known each other earlier…

  
A questioning sounding humm vibrates in the big guys chest, when Michael flinches into their kiss. Seeing Jason get forced into the lake by that fucking dickheads inside his head, he can't hold back a bodily reaction. „Did I hurt you?“, his big buddy asks with his usual deep and rumbling voice, but sounding slightly worried. No he didn't. To be honest, he's the only one who never didn't. Shaking his head no, the demon rapidly posseses the cold pair of lips again, trying to bann the images out of his head at least for now. Though it's far away from easy. With every new image popping up in his mind, the itch to rip someones guts out increases. Hell, he really hopes the little fucktarts already got what they deserved.   
Feeling the vibration of Jasons low and small moans tickling on his lips, he pulls back a bit. „You could never hurt me.“, hiding his face in the crook of his big boys neck. For a short moment, Michael only inhales the earthy scent, trying really hard to believe his own words, though experience has teached him something different. But knowing how alike the big guy is to him, maybe with Jason the whole _getting treated like shit in the end_ -thing will be different. Maybe…

Noting Jason getting a little bit more worried, caurse the strong arms are wrapping tightly around his back while one side of the rotten face presses into his hair, Michael starts to lightly nibble on the thick neck. No matter what happens now, Jason can't get aware of the demons lightening up emotions. First it would be embarrassing like crazy and second, if it isn't durable and it most likely won't be, the big guy won't build up any false and useless hopes. Michael loves to manipulate him by entice him with what he says and does, but wakening false hopes? No, nothing he whishes to do. Specially not now while he already gets hunted by sad little Jason inside his freaked head. There’s no need for sad big Jay too.

  
Treatening the dead skin with more rudelier getting bites, the demon soon manages to literally push Jason out of his rising worries and right into the flames of his raging energy. It's not only raging becaurse of his way too lively imagination bugging him, hearing and feeling Jason react to him also throws a significant ammount of growing arousal into the mix now. The big guy is absently grinding his grown errection against him, exhaling deep throaty groans every time he bites down into the dead flesh. His liquid energy willingly surrenders to the flickering flames. Considering their energies interacting, his definitely is the one fucking the other, even if it actually is the other way around on the physical base. Also Jason obviously is a pain addict. Not that Michael would dare to judge. Pah! Certainly not him. No, not with his own several different kinds of kinks and twisted preferences. One wich is steadily manifesting more and more since they've started to play with each other, is not only biting, but to bite with the goal of caursing blood to flow and to bruise as intense as possible. Twisted? Sure, but there's almost nothing not twisted concerning him, so what? And it's not only him, hell no! His big boy massivly longes for it with every cell of his body, that's more than senseable. Jason offers himself so willingly to the devils sharp teeth, Michael must be blind, deaf and comatose to not sense it.

  
Delicately licking up a stream of thick, dark blood running down Jasons neck, Michael amusedly purrs: „You really are a little perv, you know that? Getting all excited by me abusing you…“. Biting down hard again he takes away Jasons chance to insist. Instead a painfully sounding hiss, followed by a long satisfied, low moan escapes him, while his head falls back into his neck. Sucking and licking the fresh mark near the partely displaying collarbone, Michael feels his big boys hard cock jump in interest, nudging him inpatientally. And not only Jason is reacting intensly, also his own filled member is more than interested, twitching and pushing hard against the fabric of the overall. Licking up the cold blood wich is streaming out of the abused flesh, it's taste fills Michaels whole mouth and also floods his whole senses. Tasting nothing but the metallic liquid, smelling it's rich scent and feeling the cold and thick texture on his lips and tongue almost drives him mad. Blood always had been something special to him, arousing him even in a relatively young age already. He also always had a thing for roughter and painful _games_ , but with Jason it's the first time it get's so intense that he truly fears to lose himself and control. Paying too less of attention it easily could happen, caurse he's already feeling like an addict consuming his favorite drug, desperately in need to get high. With his head getting blurry, he also starts to grind his hips, drawing animalistic sounds out of both of them. The more he feasts on his lake spirit, the higher he gets it seems. Even when he decides to get low this time. „Fuck me already.“,he suddenly grunts, pressing a short, but intense bloody kiss onto the surprised Jasons lips.

  
Sliding off the big guys lap fast, he gets rid of the overall even faster. Yes, actually he doesn't wanted to allow Jason to get a bit of controll and yes, actually he wanted to stay the dominant part, but Christ! Intoxicated by the rich blood and still driven by his need to make Jason feel as something precious, he isn't able to do something else right now. If Jason won't take him soon, he fears to lose the last bit of his mind eventually. Crawling back to Jason, moving as graceful as always and dangerously resemble to a feline right before it's fatal strike, the big guy gets robbed of his pants withing the next few seconds. And suddenly he gets pulled over his demon who's shifting underneath him, positioning Jason right between his invitingly parted tights. Not that some one has to be a genuis to know what to do, but knowing it theoretically is something very different to actually do it in practice. While Jason has trouble to adjust to his new more active position, the devil never stops to decorate his upper body with more throbbing marks. His slender fingers firmly wrapped around their pulsing cocks, slowly strocking up and down their full lenghts. That also doesn't helps with thinking about what to do next. Pushing him by telling him to hurry makes it even worse, but then fortunately the part of his brain wich still works more or less, remembers their first time. Spitting into his palm Jason slides his hand between the parted tights. The heat radiating from his demon is even feelable not touching an inch of his skin. It's like his energy literally set him on fire and that fire is now trying to also burn Jason. Wondering how hot he must feel from the inside, makes Jason give out a rumbling groal, while his fingertips are gliding against the twitching hole of his devil. Michael immediately circeling his hips and pushing against Jasons fingers, really leaves no doubts that he's more than ready and it's about time. Sliding in two at once without being all to carefull, caurses the smooth body to arch up from the ground and exhale the demonic sounds Jason meanwhile is used to. They turn into desperate whimpers when he starts to let his fingers slide in and out of the greedy body. Usually he's not the type to tease, but damn! Pulling his fingers almost fully out, waiting a few seconds and ram them back all the way in again, letting a row of swears, whines and deep groans burst out of the demon really is thrilling.

  
Adding a third finger results in Michael biting down his chest so hard, that the big guy first feared his not so solid rotting flesh would give in and the devil would literally bite a piece out of him. Fotunetly it hasn't happened, there are enough wounds all over his body already. When Michael falls back again and pushes against Jasons fingers, the blood flowing out of the bite is dripping down onto the pale belly. It's dark red shade makes a beautifully contrast to the almost white skin and while Jason temporarely freezes and admires the view, his demon can't hold back his inpatience any longer. „I told you to fuck me, didn't I?“, he snarls with sparks of cheekiness flashing up in the black eyes. Well he did, but getting fucked by Jasons fingers doesn't seems to feel bad either. On the other hand Jason also longes to burry himself deep into the demon and it's stronger than the urge to tease Michael only a tiny bit longer.

Getting into position, though he's insecure if it's right the way he does, Michaels relieved sounding sight indicates that he doesn't gives a shit how he does it, if he only does it already. „Be my sweet boy and give it to me good…“, the demons voice purrs trailing off into a low, long moan with his fingernails digging into the broad shoulders, when Jasons wide tip finally pushes past the tight ring of muscles. It's amazing how easily he's able to slide all the way into the willing body. Bottoming out with ease, while the demons muscles rythmycally contract around him, he doesn't has to wonder about the inner heat anymore. Pushing in as deep as possible, he's sure with that heat you could melt steal. What a luck, he's not made out of steal, right?

  
\-----------------

  
„You're beautiful…“, the rumbling voice mumbles absently while his cold fingertips trace up and down Michaels spine. Night has fallen and the moon shines bright as always, but though the air is still pleasently warm. Laying there on his stomach next to his big buddy, his overall only covers the lower half of his body, Michael answers without opening his eyes: „I know.“, while a wide grin stretches under the mask.

He would never admit it, but Jason praising him and touching him so tenderly as if he’s also something special, creeps deep into his soul and lets a warm feeling spread inside his chest. Usually he would worry about that, but now? Hell, he's feeling way too good to worry about anything. The fact it turned out Jason is very talented in fucking him stupid when he's in charge, also contributes to it, that he feels more than comfortable, secure and satisfied right now. Giving up some control was a great idea, even if it resulted in something positiv for the first time ever.

  
„And so humble!“, the low voice chuckles when Jason lays flat down on his back, folding his arms behind his head. God, he feels so exhausted, but in a good way. A more than good way and while it feels like his body is getting heavier and heavier, his head is still feather light. Watching the nightsky with it's pattern of millions of tiny, twinkling spots, Jason enjoys the blur his mind is still tightly wrapped in. Michael really is something. Sometimes it's an almost undoable task to handle his jumpy personality, but slowly Jason feels like figuring out the trick. It's difficult and there are countless ways to fuck it up, but somehow he surely will get how to handle Michael right. The demon really is like a rubix cube. Hard to solve, requireing all of your patience and with the abillity to drive you insaine. However, getting as close as possible on the physical base seems to help with bringing him closer to the demons soul too. Even if it's a slow process and sometimes he feels like watching grass grow.

  
He isn't sure how many marks the demon has left on him but from his neck down to his chest his skin is nicely burning and throbbing. It somehow calmes him to know Michael enjoys it as much as he does. Being a confirmed good boy also means to not make anybody do something in dislike. So, it would've been a shame if his demon wouldn't enjoy it either, but as astonishing it is his luck remains. When the demon had almost yelled at him to thrust into him harder and deeper, the penny had dropped with a loud bang, that the demon had massively hold back himself during their first time. But had it surprised him? No, not really…Everything about Michael had the potential to escalate into an extreme, everything and very rapidly! So, getting commanded to „fuck his brain out“, as the demon had called it, had taken Jason by surprise, comming out of the blue for him, caurse their first time had went all gentle and slowly, but on the long run? No, absolutely no surprise. And honestly? Though it was totally unknown ground for him, Jason had loved it. Every, literally fucking, second. Obviously Michaels slogan was harder, faster, deeper, regardless of possibly consequences.

First Jason had been afraid to hurt his devil, but hearing him groaning and moaning out his pleasure and feeling his body heating up even more and greedily meeting his thrusts, while his energy seemed to burn like a thousend suns, had quickly let Jasons instincts win the upper hand. Beasts, they were beasts and when beasts mate, they use their claws and teeth, working only on instinct and deep rooted needs. The last gentle and tender caressing had vanished quickly and the only thing importent was to chase their jointly release. Melting into each other once again and strengthen their bond even more. And damn, Michael was absolutely right to call it _pressur release_ , caurse it had felt like some one had suddenly opened a valve and everything exept his need for the devil and the blinding bliss got kicked out of his body and mind. Indeed the second his orgasm had strucked through his body, only Michael had mattered anymore and there was nothing that could've stopped him from burrying himself into that wicked body as deep as possible. Shooting his cold load deep inside that incedible heat, marking the demon as his too, it had banned everything else out of his mind. Bombs falling around them? Some stupid humans crossing the camps border? Jason wouldn't have given a rats ass! He most likely wouldn't have even noticed.

  
Now, after laying down next to him, the demons warm and soft hand strokes lazily over his chest. His fingers admire the marks he had left there, rubbing them as if he's deeply satisfied with his pattern work of teeth marks. Maybe he plans to use Jason as a canvas from now on and his big buddy would be more than delighted about it. It's not that Michael wouldn't know. Someone would have to stab a long, rusty nail into his brain to make him not know. But he does and the knowledge about Jason desperately wanting him to mark him up, be owned by him, be his and connecting completely, really serves his unhealthy need for absolut control. Chuckling to himself, he also declaims Jason following his commands without any resistence as a good sign to keep control over their relationship. Relationship, thinking about it the word still sounds foul and unfitting to him. But how else should he name it? No, he won't call it love or anything like that. Though maybe he indeed was able to feel something for Jason, judging by his growing and unspeakable annoying urge to be close to him every minute of the day. But love? Nope, certainly not! Anyways, telling Jason he feels something for him, even though he's not sure what it is and how long it stays, would most likely caurse the big guy to diy from too much blood loss becaurse of an extreme nosebleed. He adores the rich, dark blood, but no, no thanks. That would be too much even for him. It's better Jason doesn't knows about it.

  
„I always wanted to live like this…“, he says after a while only silently stroking small circles on Jasons chest. Said big killer was right on the way to sleepland, soothed by the gently stroking and their former activity, when Michaels soft voice lets his eyes pop open rapidly. It's not becaurse he suddenly began to talk, it's what he said. Turning his head, he gives his demon a questioning look. It's rare that Michael talkes about things concerning his emotions, needs, wishes or past, so he doesn't wants to scare him by actually asking what he's talking about. But anyways he doesn't has to. His demon got used to his often more non-verbal communication. Letting his fingers wander up and down the bruised neck, Michael answers the questioning gaze the blue eyes are giving him: „Some where out of town, you know…far out of town. Without neighbours for a few miles, no one who could disturb me, only surrounded by nature and peace. Lifing without being judged or worse…“. Straightening up and leaning his head into his palm, he has a good view down at the still confused looking eyes. Usually it drives him crazy when Jason is slowly as a spider on two legs, but now with his own head still blurry it's kind of adoreable, he thinks slightly frightened by thinking such slushy shit. His big boy is softening him, crap…

  
„Here at the camp, it's just like I've always imagined it to be. Well…I haven't imagined strange shit to happen all the time or to have a big, murderous companion like you, but…“, trailing off his hand slides down onto Jasons stomach, „…I wouldn't want it to be different.“, whispering the last part his head sinks down onto Jasons shoulder, while his arm slides around the wide middel clinging to Jason tightly. Automatically the big guy returns the embrace, pulling his demon in by his waist while his other hand cups the back of his head. He's not good with words, no they always were his sworn enemies, but sometimes someones behavior says so much more than any words possibly could. And that's what he always understands. Sharing a few more moments like that during the next days, none of them would've guessed what was comming their way and that it would flip everything over. 

 


	14. From gentle giants and innocent angels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your comments and kudos, sweethearts :* <3

He's trying his best, though his hands seem to be way too big and raw to untangle the pell-mell of fuzzy brown. Being as careful and gentle as he possibly can, the little one at least finally stopped to yell, kick and fidget. After Michael had dashed downstairs chasing after his little image, things almost had escalated. His demon really would do good in practicing some patience. Christ, it's not that he doesn't knows how the little one most likely reacts to force. No, he does very well, but it doesn't stopped him from using exact the wrong tactic. Force. He really needs to learn some patience…both Michaels need to!

  
Fed up with the two of them running around the living area, one fleeing, the other chasing him with the hair brush in his hand like one of his knifes, Jason had exhaled a groal like thunder, caursing the air in the room to vibrate. It was one of the most rumbling sounds he had ever made and while he was surprised about it himself, it had also surprised the two hotheads. Staring at him slightly shocked, they had stopped to use the living area as a battlefield and Jason had been able to convince the little one to let him take a try.

  
Watching his demon from the corner of his eye, it definitely was a good idea to get into action. Sitting on the couch next to the boy, the demons arms are firmly foldet in front of his chest and while the black eyes stare right ahead he clenches his jaw so hard that his teeth make gnashing noises. Jason doesn't expects Michael to seriously hurt the kid…or better he hopes he's right with believing he wouldn't, but well, knowing Michaels ability to easily drive someone crazy also counts for his small version. So, better be careful than sorry. Unfortunately it turns out brushing little Michaels hair is a task someone needs finesse and sensitivity for. Two things he never mastered. Mumbling desperately sounding apologies every time the small one flinches and hisses, Jason bravely works his way through the mess of hair.

  
„That's what happens when you act like a jerk and don't brush your hair.“, the demon grumbles when little Michael flinches again.

  
„I don't like it! I hate it! You know I hate it!“, insisting the small one also folds his arms in front of his chest and gives the mother of all pouts. Watching them, it almost is frightening how alike they are.

  
Oh, Michael does know about the hair thing, but he wasn't aware of the annoyence it caursed for everyone daring to try to brush it. Hearing Jason clearing his throat while giving him a not so amused side glance, the demon grumbles something under his nose and Jason could bet either he's baring his teeth or pouting as adorable as the little one. To be honest, as nerve sawing as they both can get, there's nothing cuter than a sulky Michael. No matter if it's the young or the adult one. While keeping on with fighting the rebellious hair, Jason can't help but to smile widely under his mask. Chuckling mentally, he really hopes he‘ll be able to never tell the devil how sweet he is when he's sulky. Caurse the chances are high that Michael won't be amused, not a single bit and there's nothing more worse than the demon pissed about him!

  
_I could do it with much more delicacy and could be much gentlier, but when the little brat wants it the clumbsy way, please let him have it!_ , Michael thinks, slightly peeking at his big buddy and the little bugger from the past. Despite his frustration and oh, it's howling and groaling in the pit of his stomache like an angry wolf, one thing makes him wonder. Is it possible that Jason indeed is the one he always watched out for? Or better, he secretely hoped does exist? No, not like a soulmate or some dump shit like that! Just someone who matches to him, who is able to understand. Someone who's not judging him, caurse he knows very well how hard everything can be. Watching the big slasher doing his best with untangle his little versions messed up hair, it is unusual to see the small one so calm. Well more or less calm, at least he's only protesting passively anymore, but scrolling through his memories, he never had been so calm when someone had tried to brush his hair or cut his nails or do whatever he counted as suspicious. And his section of suspicious actions is huge! But it seems even his pastly self trusts Jason. Something not unimportant to him, caurse the little fuck usually trusts no one, he knows best! Maybe it's becaurse Jason, though he's raw and rought, has much empathy. Not minding the first impression you get when you first meet him, he actually is some kind of a gentle giant. A gentle, immortal, slashing and killing giant, but still.

  
Hearing the last parts of a mumbled and hissed conversation between Jason and little Michael, he loses his selfcontrol for a short moment. „I didn't liked it, caurse I feared they could hurt me in some way!“, the demon spits, answering Jasons desperate question why the little one hated brushing his hair so much, while his fingers got almost entangled in the brown fluff. Actually he wanted to say something else. Maybe „ _At least he's got hair!_ “ or „ _Use a scissor instead the brush_.“, but telling Jason about the reason just bursted out of him first, thrown out of his mouth by the angry wolf raging in his stomache. No, he doesn't wants to hear a possible answer. Jumping up and shoving his hands in his pockets, he quickly stalkes over to the terass door and slips out, leaving a confused Jason alone with the little one knotted to his fingers.

  
Watching the door for a long moment Jason tries to decide if he should hurrily try to free his fingers and go after his devil or if he should finish the birds nest on the small head first. As pressing the urge is to go after Michael, he eventually decides to fight the fuzzy mane first. Certainly big Michael anyways would most likely reply to nothing he would say, expect with annoyed sounds or poiseness comments. Better let him calm a little, whatever the hell is bugging him.   
„My mother never hurt me…“, he absently mumbles to himself, though he gets an answer.

  
„Mine not too. But dad did.“

  
Who thinks out loud has to count with answers and most times they're not what you want to hear. If he wants it or not, hearing the childlike, bright voice state something like this with such coldness and carlessness lets Jason tense. „He did?“, he asks low, guessing the next answer will not comfort him too, neither the young one.

  
„Most times he just yells at me, but sometimes he hurts me too…“, laying his head in his neck, the big black eyes focuse on Jason, „...Did your dad hurt you?“. Shaking his head no, Jason is slightly creeped out by the boys casual talking. „I don't know him.“, he says shortly, brushing through the finally a little bit smoother getting hair. So, that's how it all started. How Michael came to claim having no significant emotions and to deny his memories. The little one talking about it so lightly surely is no sign of extraordinary mental health and shows the deep roots of Michaels need to push everything away from him to defend himself from any harm. With knitted brows and his throat tightening Jason returns the gaze of the huge, dark eyes until little Michael turns his head again. Shrugging and sighting he says: „You're lucky. I wish I wouldn't know mine too.“

  
Shortly after that little conversation, Jason couldn't stand it anymore and though he guessed Michael wouldn't be amused, he went outside looking for his demon. The little one meanwhile was instructed to try his own luck with his messed up hair. He caursed it to matt in the first place! As Jason got outside he only needed to turn his head to the left to find the devil. He had thought he most likely would hide up on the roof or wander through the woods, but there he sat in all his mad glory. His back leaned against the wall of the cabin, one leg stretched out the other pulled up with one arm resting on the knee. Oh, and he wasn't amused to get company. Not spending any view on Jason, he exhaled an annoyed sight followed by a spitted „What?!“, when Jason slowly walked over. _Be careful now_ , he thought feeling as if walking into a cage to feed some lions.

  
„I'm sorry…“, he had started as he flopped down next to his demon in the grass, but got interrupted rapidely.  
„It's none of your business.“, the usually smooth voice had rumbled carrying that special undertone of _Go fuck yourself!_. Adding: „That'll be it, that somebody has to feel sorry for me.“, angrily pressed out between his teeth.

Knowing that any tiny mistake will caurse an meltdown, Jason now sits silently next to the pissed demon, nervously drumming his fingers onto his thighs. While he's strainedly searching for something to comfort Michael, his energy reacts rudelier and way more on instinct. The fact it takes only a tiny push to make the demon flip? Well, his energy obviously doesn't gives a shit about it and though he tries to stop it, it reaches out for the devil. The burning one seems to be as pissed as he is, caurse it feels like it's biting back and trying to lock out the other sternly. Closing his eyes and cautiously listening to Michaels quiet, unagreeing groaling, he's able to feel anything happening on the base of their bond.

  
Indeed it seems it got way stronger as they got closer to each other. In the beginning he was able to sense the demons emotions, but often it was blurry and more guessing than knowing. Now, though the flickering one is not amused about the invader, he's able to name every emotion wich is flowing through their connection. It's stunning to literally get in touch with the devils soul, but the same time it sends cold shivers down Jasons spine. There's so much darkness as if you're locked up in a pitch black room, desperately searching for some light, but can't find any. The deeper his energy flows into it, the more it soothes the other one it seems. It's still flickering aggressivly, but allows his to connect fully. And that's when his chest clenches and it feels as if some dark and fucking dangerous creature hits it's claws violently into him. Flinching and tensing hard, Jason tries to stand the sudden clearness of the devils hidden emotions. Feeling them so strongly, he asks himself how anyone is able to stand them day by day. He definitely couldn't when only experiencing them for a short time already caurses his body to react so intensly. He feels cold, so damn cold and that means something as a living corpse! It's so cold and heavy, as if a blanket made out of stone and iron is slowly crushing him. It literally pushes the oxygen out of his lungs, leaving him gasping for air. There's pain, much of pain, stinging and burning. The physical kind as well as the emotional kind. Sadness, lonelyness, hoplessness, hate, madness and so much raging anger. With his eyes still closed, Jason starts to breath fast and huskyly, but the demons emotions aren't the only thing slipping through their strenghtened connection. In front of his inner eye, images are forming. First blurry and not to identify, but after a while they get clearer and damn they're fucking vivid. They start to move, playing a movie inside his head he wasn't prepared to watch. He's aware of the cruelness of humans, but seeing what Michael had to bear all his life, no it tops all his knowledge by far!

  
Feeling the cool, liquid energy of his big boy dig deeper, a sad smile plays on the demons lips. If Jason wants to know it, let him see it. Though he's not happy with the big guy messing around in his memories and soul, at least it's easier than to have conversations about it. Wich would continue the rest of their immortal lifes, caurse though Jason is patient and holds back most of the time, he also is obstinately and certainly wouldn't stop with trying to bring him to talk. The memories awakened by the little one are now unfiltered shared with Jason and judging his changed breathing and clenched fists, it's hard for him to get aware of the muck heap Michaels life always was. The farther it goes on, the tenser his big buddy gets. He's clenching his jaw tightly and though the mask, Michael is able to make out the deep frown underneath it. Usually it would suit his inner sadist to see someone suffer, but not this time. Even if he really enjoys it to let Jason suffer from time to time and possibly will never run out of new ideas, this time it's far away from their usual play of cat and mouse.

  
Suddenly it's like someone threw a door shut. Connection lost. No signal. Nothing, nada, zero. Blinking his eyes open again, Jason slowly turns his head to face his demon. The look he gives him is a mix of horror and confusion, still huffing and feeling that immensly heavyness surrounding him.

„You're happy now?“, his devil asks hoarsely, avoiding his gaze. No, he's not! How should he?! How by all demons should he be happy about that?! Shaking his head, though Michael isn't looking at him, he reaches out for the masked face. Cupping it gently with one cautios hand, words are missing again. What could he say? That he's sorry? That it's horrible what had happened? That he wishes it wouldn't have happened? Nice phrases, but nothing what would be able to make it any better. Remaining silent, Jason does what he's better in than using words. Letting his fingers run through the soft hair, he dares to shift closer. The chances are 50/50 that Michael accepts his closeness or pushes him away. Getting pushed away by his demon always caursed a sad and cold feeling rise up in his chest, but knowing the reasons Jason never got mad or angry. Specially not after experiencing a tiny part of Michaels emotional chaos now. Like he had figured out very fast, with Michael you need heavenly patience and every little detail is complicated like hell. As well, it's not his fault to be like this, so how could he blame him for withdrawing and trying to avoid even more pain?

  
„Don't you ever dare to venture so deep again…“, Michael tells him snarling, when his arms slowly slide around the slightly smaller frame, „It better remains locked up deep inside. And it's nothing to feel sorry about.“. Chuckling sadly his devil adds, nudging his head to the broad chest, „Maybe it all happened, caurse I deserved it to be treated this way. I mean, without a trigger there's no reaction, right?“. With Michaels head pressed to his chest, Jason is right about to insist sternly, when a bright voice sounds up from behind.

  
„Guys, I think something's wrong with the brush...“, it says sounding slightly concerned while a small hand points out to the brush stucked to the side of the fuzzy head, „…Oh, and we possibly should search for the small Jason soon!“.

  
\-----------------

  
There's obviously something about him what animates the younger version of his demon to talk…much! Roaming the forest to find his own mini me, the little one is babbling like a waterfall. About a half an hour ago Jason had stopped to reply and started to just humm in agreement, while little Michael seemed to speak out every single thought wich had ever crossed his mind. In detail! It's not that Jason is annoyed by the little ones endless speach, no actually listening to the bright voice is kind of nice, but damn! He's not used to someone talking that much and it really is exhausting to concentrate on the not ending words. When the voice pitches a questioning tone, Jason increases his humming trying to make it seem like he's still listening attentively. He doesn't wants the young one to feel ignored, but truth is, he lost the ability to get what he's talking about. Not only becaurse his brain has some seriouse issues with comprehending so much random informations in a short time span, also becaurse the scenes wich were transported through their bond are still dancing vividly through his head.

  
Walking around to find little Jason, keeping an eye on little Michael who's not only talking energeticly but also running and jumping around as if he's electrified, plus the memories of the demon still haunting him. Pain caursing images are still flickering up in front of his inner eye, letting waves of the earlier felt coldness and helplessness rush through his body again. It's only logical that Michael turned out the way he is now. Imagine himself forced to life through all that, he certainly would've killed himself years ago. Though being immortal, he would've find a way for sure! All in all it's way too much and it really makes him feel dizzy and tired as fuck. But should he let the little one roam the forest with his psychotic conterpart? Ha! No, nothing he wants to even think about. Anyways his devil wouldn't have agreed to take the boy with him, so they splitted and Jason took him along. Little Michael had mentioned the young Jason the evening he showed up, but being distracted by his pure appearience, the chaos he and his adult self produced with such ease and with trying to stop the demon from killing the small one, Jason had totally forgotten about his little self. He only remembered it when little Michael came to the terass door with the brush sticking into his hair, however the hell he managed that! And the same time casually mentioned little Jason again. Of course, after picking the brush out of the wild, fuzzy hair and that really was one of the most difficult things he had ever done, Jason immediately instructed the two Michaels to help him with finding the other little one. God! He must be terrified all alone in the woods! Imagine a scenario like this, he was sure if they wouldn't find him soon, he most likely would die from fear and terror. The demon had been far away from thrilled, still decently pissed and also hunted by his memories, but at least he had agreed to try it. Little Michael in contrast had been delighted, jumping up and down with his hands clenched into fists as if the whole energy inside him is about to burst out any second. Maybe he's a little hyperactive?

  
So, now he has a fine mess. While little Michael keeps on talking and running around, circeling almost every tree to check if little Jason maybe hides behind it, big Jason feels more than overwhelmed. What had he done to deserve something like this? To literally drown in crazy shit? Sure, he had slashed several humans, but this? A little bit too hard of a punishment, if you ask him!

  
\-----------------

  
Meanwhile Michael roams the other side of the forest by himself. Hell, he's so glad that Jason took the little one with him. Caurse honstely, if he had to take him along, he most likely would return without him. Not that he has an urge to kill him in general, but as paradox it is, the boy is able to drive his own self mad within a few minutes. Also his presence by itself is something that impairing Michael a lot. Gosh, he had locked up his past so deep and secure inside the last corner of his mind, but getting confronted with the boy digged it all up again. It literally had run into him and instead of excusing for bumping into him, angrily yelled at him to watch where the fuck he's walking. Thanks to who ever is the sick fucker pulling the strings in the background! He almost claps his hands, but eventually holds it back. However, for the next few hours the little brat is Jasons problem and Michael couldn't be more relieved about that nice little case.

  
While he walkes, he doesn't wastes his attention with watching his surroundings closely. He doesn't has to. If Jasons young self gets anywhere near him, he certainly would be able to feel it. He‘s even able to still sense the big guys energy, though he's roaming the other side of the camps grounds. Currently the calm liquideness has changed into huge waves like on high seas during a storm. As unpleasant it is to admit, their connection got stronger and slowly but steadily Michael guesses they will be bonded forever. There are much worse things imagineable than being bonded with his big boy for the rest of their immortal lifes, but though the thought of being paired with someone so strongly, decently frightens him. No better, it makes him anxious as fuck! The big guy is the first person who ever had managed to get so close to him and as awsome it can feel to be close, very close to Jason, letting him be close to his soul is something new, foreign and immensly frightening. It's creepy how easily Jason is able to peep into his deepest soul life and it's nothing he will ever appericate. To be honest, it freakes him out, it really does! Who the hell came up with the idea of making it possible to connect with each other so intensly?! And why the heck had it to be him? Yes, it's better than rotting at the sanatorium, but it also is one of the most unpleasant things he ever had to handle. Being all vulgar and talking out even the dirtiest and sickest thoughts? Absolutely no problem! But letting someone even a tiny bit close on another than physical base? Hell of a problem! A freaking desaster wich will result in chaos and misfortune, he's convinced. Fortunately he at least was able to hide his worst memories from the big guy. First it's nothing he wants to share with anybody and second, he's not sure if Jason would be able to handle them. The lifing dead indeed has experienced some fucked up and twisted shit himself, but…maybe that would be too much even for him. At least, though it makes it just slightly better, Jason is able to understand and more or less see things from the same angle. Even if his violent and sadistic side isn't as evolved as the devils is. So, no matter what happens the big guy will most likely stay as rediculously understanding as always. At least something….

  
Hearing the flapping of big wings echoing through the trees right behind him usually would be something caursing him to switch into self defence mode, but spending the last half of a year at the camp he got used to it. The big owl with it's huge yellow eyes and silky, earth-toned feathers kept on following him and though it's kind of strange, Michael doesn't bothers about it anymore. Secretely he named the bird Elvis the II, like the pet rat he owned as a kid and had killed when he was ten. That's why he hates them now so fervently, but he won't tell anybody. It's good if Jason thinks he's just disgusted by them. However, flying Elvis following him or showing up near the cabin is something that got common. Right now he can hear it flying from branch to branch behind him. It's weird and maybe it's just his twisted mind playing tricks on him what wouldn't be unusal, but he could swear the owl has it's own kind of aura. It feels hot, very energetic, but the same time dark and sneaky. Considerable to his in some way, but though very different.

  
Whatever it may be, his mind tricking him or Elvis owning his own senseable energy, now maybe he should better concentrate on the task wich is the reason why he's been forced to comb through the forest. Sure if little Jason is somewhere out there alone by himself it would be better if they would find him soon, but hell, he could imagine something better to spend his day with. Allowing Jason to fuck him until he forgets his name for example and damn the big guy really is talented or maybe with strangling the little shit from the past and dumping him in the lake. Nevertheless Michael keeps on searching. Jason had been slightly freaked out when he remembered his own self from the past and the mean and nasty part of Michael really wants his big buddy to experience the same shit as he did when he first got confronted with the little one. Yes, it's mean, but why should he be the only one who has to handle a time treavel into the past?

  
Thinking about how Jason might react, the devils attention suddenly gets caught by a weak, but still senseable presence. Closing his eyes to concentrate only on the weak signals he receives, Michael freezes for a moment. Taking a small step into every direction, he figures out where the source must be. He starts to slowly sneak into the direction where it's coming from and though he gets closer, the energy still feels weak and barely existing. The track leads him to a big tree. It's trunk is at least nine feet thick and looking up to it's top, it must be at least sixty feet high. Letting his fingertips brush over the rought bark, he wonders how old the tree may is. Certainly way older than any other being at the camp. The wind is slightly rustling it's leaves and the sunlight is beautifully sparkeling through them. Listening to the rushing sound, Michaels first fear that the source could be sitting up in the trees majestic, but damn high crown gets not confirmed. No, it's coming from the opposite direction. Cautiously walking around the tree, he finds a small gap between it's massiv roots on the other side of the trunk. The roots are digging into the ground like claws and are at least as thick as his upper arms. Carefully quizzing the hole, it looks like some kind of an animals hide out, but most likely it's not an animal hiding in it right now.

  
Kneeling down as low as possible, the first thing he sees is darkness. Trying to lean down more he thinks about what if there's a badger or something inside. He isn't wishing for a rabid animal jumping into his face, but anyways his senses are telling him, the creature hiding inside won't jump him. Being tall has it's advantages, but searching holes in the ground for little immortals definitely isn't one of them. Kneeling with his backside up in the air and his head almost laying in the dirt breathing nothing but dirt, he's glad there's no one watching him right now, expect for Elvis. Though he still can't see anything, he‘s able to hear muffled, hitching breaths and sense the prickeling of fear filling the air inside the hole. Michael never found out why, but he literally is able to smell fear, just like a dog or something. And he would enjoy it’s tempting scent highly right now, if the situation would be a different one. When he slightly shifts his position, a tiny bit of light falls into the root-cave. Feeling the sensation of a fright rush through his body wich makes all his muscles tense, he makes out a pair of baby blue eyes, staring at him in pure terror. Christ, what had he expected to find?! Annoyed by his own stupid reaction, Michael gets aware of one certain problem. He managed to find the young Jason, but what the heck should he do next? He, Mister insensitive and inpatient!

  
It's just a typical situation destiny enjoys to throw him in. He's sure somewhere far away some stupid asshole is having a lot of fun, watching him struggle. If that bastard should ever fall into his hands, he'll take his time with the asshole until he/she/it or whatever begs for the sweet realese of death. But now, clearing his throat, the demon prepares to sound as harmless as possible. „Hey in there.“, he says calmly pitching his most ungroaling and sweetest voice. Though his efforts, all the little one gives him in response is a scared as fuck soundinger whimper while he tries to hide into the dark even more. Great! How the hell is he supposed to lure him out of that hole?! „Uumm…You don't have to be afraid. I won't hurt you.“

  
Nice try, but little Jason is not convinced and doesn't even thinks about trusting the strange, tall and masked guy crouching outside his shelter. He doesn't says a word, but he's weeping quietely and watching him is enough to see how terrefied he is. The small body is shaking intensely, with his knees pulled up to his chin and his arms clenched around them he tries to push as far to the wall of the cave as possible. Sighting, Michael pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. Crap, time to let out his gentle and soft side, though he isn't even sure this side exists anymore or ever had. Leaning his chin onto his forarms and exhaling another sight he tries again: „You don't have to be afraid, Jason. You just have to come out of that hole, ok? Nothing out here will harm you…“.

  
Long moments of silence pass until the horrorfied looking boy stutters: „How d-do you…know m-my name?“.

  
And Christ, if the voice of little Jason isn't cute! Not that Michael has a thing for insecure, deformed, baby slashers, no really not…really! But hell, the boys bright and totally innocent sounding voice really melts something inside him. Paired with that big, round version of the water spirits blue eyes, it massively stimulates his new awakened protective instincts he started to feel for Jason. If he likes it or not, there definitely is a part of him with a certain urge to protect the one he is building up feelings for and the same counts for the frightened kid in the hole. „I know someone who knows you well. He's also looking for you. We already were afraid something has happened to you.“, Michael says after pulling out of his thoughts about exactly why and how he's suddenly able to care for someone. „If you come out, we can go meet him and show him that you're fine.“

  
Waiting for a reaction from the small one, Michael notices his energy sneaking into the cave. It really fits his personality, caurse though it's not immediately jumping him with it's claws ready to strike, it's slowly stalking around him, circeling him with the same ammount of suspiciousion the demon always claimed as very important. Jason obviously can feel it as well and his blue eyes are rapidly searching for the presence slowly surrounding him. „It's ok.“, Michael whispers, reaching out his right into the cave. Would be awsome if it were that easy, but unfortunately and fitting to what the demon expected, it isn't. The little one avoids his hand as if he plans to grab him by his neck, squeezing his body as far into the hole as he can.

  
Running out of ideas what to say to calm the boy, his very limited patience isn't delighted either. Sighting deeply he pulls back his hand and positiones it under his chin again. Yes, he's still crouching in that super stupid position and even worse than displaying himself are his knees wich are already starting to ache. God, he's not made to crawl into tiny gaps, glip around in the dirt, neither to lure someone out of somewhere. For long moments the two of them only stare at each other. Michael with a decent ammount of inpatience and annoyence forming inside, little Jason with the still same expression of pure terror. Not really noticing it yet, Michael already fell for the huge blue orbs. It's like looking into the face of an angel and knowing Jason, the kid also is as innocent as an angel. A deformed, scared to the bones angel, but who the hell cares??

  
_How to handle „normal“ kids?_ , the demon asks himself, humming deeply. The tiny jerk who showed up first sure is no example for a common childs behavior. Brooding and closely checking the little ones aura, Michael suddenly has an idea. He doesn't likes it, oh no, really not! It's something he doesn't wants to do, not even for money, but maybe it will work and he will get the boy out of the underground and most important he won't have to kneel there for any longer. „I really hate to do that…“, he grumbles under his breath, straightening up to be able to use his arms and hands.

  
Sitting there right in front of that giant tree, feeling unbelievingly small considered to it, it takes the demon a while to do what crossed his mind. Slowly his fingers slide under his mask. Shoving it up, he presses his hands to his face. It feels weird, so weird! At the sanatorium he hadn't been wearing the mask either, but having it back since he woke up at the camp was one of the best things happening in a very long while. Why the hell do I need this fucking thing so much?!, he irritatedly thinks while rubbing his face. Taking a deep breath, his hands lift up only an inch. When was the last time he had felt the wind brush over his face? It's eternities ago… And though the whole situation is incredible unpleadant and embarrassing right now, the devil eventually lets his hands fall down into his lap. With closed eyes, he feels the wind and the sunlight touch his skin and enjoys it for some short moments. It really is long ago…

  
But as good as the wind and sun feels, a) He only did it to maybe calm the little one, caurse yes, masked guys are not trustworthy in the eyes of a normal child he guesses and b) the longer he's without his mask, the higher the risk to be seen by someone else, specially big Jason. Feeling an immens stiffness affecting his body, he leans down again. „See? Not so scary anymore, right?“, he says in his sweetest voice, trying to smile warmly, while the small one's breath hitches again. Reaching out his hand the second time, the demon tries his luck again: „Come on, get out of there. There’s someone who wants to meet you and my knees are already killing me!“.

  
\-----------------

  
Still roaming the other side of the camp, Jasons concerns are growing with every passing minute. It's already afternoon and there's still no trace of his younger version. What if they can't find him? According to little Michael, he had been in the forest for at least three days already until Jason had found him. That means, if they arrived the same time, little Jason is lost in the woods since four days now. What if he starves? Or dies of thirst? Or gets attacked by wild animals? Or even worse, what if he has fallen into the lake??! Is he immortal too? Fuck, so much possibilities and he has no clue wich could be true and wich not. With little Michael sitting on his shoulders now, caurse running around like crazy obviously is exhausting for such small legs, Jason desperately hopes big Michael had more luck than them.

  
In between the melody the little one is humming now instead of talking, talking and even more talking, Jason wonders if it would be even good if Michael had more luck than them. The demon truely isn't a childs person and you can't consider little Michael with little Jason. Thinking of their personalities often enough as fire and water, the same counts for the both young ones. He can't remember to ever been even anywhere near to the fuzzy haired boys smug and cheeky personality. No, as a child he always was shy, introverted and very cautious and insecure. Would Lucifer himself be able to handle such a sensible kid? What if the demon had found him, got fed up and had blown one? What if he got so annoyed that he just left him behind? Or wasn't able to control his short, very short temper? As much as Jason wants to believe Michael would never harm someone helpless like that, he unfortunately exactly knows now what kind of twisted, sick and violent potential is slumbering inside his beloved devil. He had seen it, he had felt it, it had made him shiver and thinking about it now is enough to let hot waves of immense concern run through his body.

  
Sensing something, he suddenly turns around. It's the demon coming their way. The sudden turn caurses the small one to clench his arms around the deformed head, holding on tight to the masked forehead. „What?“, the bright voice asks surprisedly. Quickly walking towards the approaching energy, Jason renounces to answer. Yes, it's impolite, but if you want to be completely exact, he himself doesn't knows what they've to expect. Moving his legs as fast as possible without shifting into a run, caurse strange circumstances or not he still hates running! The big guys brain makes up every possible scenario he can think of. They radiate from Michael found his younger self and brings it with him, over he found him but left him behind, to he found him and did something very stupid. Or maybe he doesn't found him at all. Whatever happened, Jason almost can't stand the unsuspectingness anymore.

  
While his big frame pushes through thick vegetation, walking straightly cross country, the boy on his shoulders cheers in joy. Not only big Michael had fun riding on his back it seems. And though it's just a very weak and fastly fading thought crossing Jasons mind, he wonders if that same little boy is still lifing deep inside the devil and showed up in exact such situations. It would match perfectly, but sensing another aura accompanieing the burning one, he has no more time to concentrate onto his little theory. If he's lucky, maybe he'll remember it later. With the happily screeching little Michael on his shoulders, it takes just a few more steps until Jason can make out his demons elegant shape through the trees and bushes.

„Hey, Jay!“, the smooth voice shouts glowingly from only a short distance. When they're just a few steps away anymore, it says in a mixture of malicious joy and relieve: „I've got something for you…“, shifting a step to the side the smooth body reveals it's discovery, „…I hope you'll enjoy it as greately as I did.“.

Sarcasm?

 


	15. Voices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, looks like the queen finally found a new job! *performes a little dance* As a horse groomer who lost his job months ago, I really thought I would loose my mind being trapped at home all the time @.@ Fortunately that's over now! *yay* I really missed to work with horses.  
> Unfortunately it may will take even longer now to complete a chapter than it already did >.< I'll hope you guys have patience xD I'll promise I'll do my best to keep a bearable frequenz!

Making a mentally comparison between walking through the woods with the young Jason vs. walking through the woods with his own little nerve sawing self, it definitely is more pleasant to walk with young Jay. Well, as pleasant as it can be to suddenly deal with a being wich actually shouldn't be there. At least the boy is silent. The only sound he makes is the rustling of the undergrowth under his steps and a quiet, little whimper from time to time. Apart from that he's walking well behaved right next to the large demon, no jumping or running around, no complaining, no babbling, nothing. A kid of his taste. While Michael shifts his gaze every now and then to the little one, the big blue eyes stay glued to the ground. The small hands are constantly clenched into the fabric of the shorts he's wearing and though his head‘s bend down slightly, Michael can see the tenseness of the small jaw and the worried frown in the deformed face. He certainly thinks the demon is planning to murder him or something, not aware of the protectively instincts he's actually caursing Michael to feel. With the big Jason it is worse enough, but with the small one? Hell, he’s so innocent, shy and anxious, it's barely bareble!

  
Inside the devil a miniature war is raging. On one side his murderous, twisted and dark part, on the other the part he thought got swallowed by darkness and madness long ago. Seemingly it is still there, hiding deep inside him and Jason, the ridiculously naiv bastard, had triggered it to it's fullest. Right now he's torn back and forth between staying the smug asshole he claims to be or allow his softer side to surface more. Shifting his gaze to Jason again, the urge to take care of him strikes immediately and mercilessly. Christ, what the fuck is wrong with him?! He had always been glad to be able to keep a save distance to every other person, but now? Now Jason got so close, there's even not enough space for a papersheet left between them and the same counts for the small one.

  
When he had taken off his mask, it turned out it really was true that in the eyes of a normal child, masked guys aren't trustworthy, expect for super heros maybe. The boy hadn't left the cave immediately, but after asking about the devils name and telling his mother had told him to meet someone named Michael, he eventually had come out. Slowly and cautiously, not daring to make a rapid movement, but he came out. Even grabbed the demons offered hand, what had decently surprised Michael. Feeling the small hand clinging to his had been something completely new, but instead of feeling weird and unfamilar, it had felt quiet nice he has to admit. Thinking about it, it most likely wasn't the physical contact making him feel that way, it was the tiny sign of trust the little one gave him. Nothing big, nothing spectacular, but an itsy bitsy tiny sign, wich had caursed a huge emotional reaction.

  
„We're almost there.“, he says when he feels his big boy's presence more and more. Talking so suddenly, though he tried to sound as harmless as he can, lets the small body twitch. An insecure gaze shoots up to him as if asking „ _You sure this is the right thing to do?_ “. Little Jason is completely to his mercy, it crosses the demons mind. It must feel horrible to be so helpless, not knowing what will happen and to be reliant to a complete stranger. Actually, the little one must feel exactly like him when he woke up in the cabin for the first time. As well as small Jason he had been more or less helpless, caurse injured, been to the big slashers mercy and forced to deal with a complete stranger plus a complete foreign place. Remembering how much it had freaked him out, for a kid it must be unbelievingly terrefying!

  
Chewing on his bottom lip, little Jason returns his gaze back to the ground. His hands are clenched so hard, his knuckles turn white and consciously or unconsciously he's sobbing quietly, but still bravely keeping up with the demons pace. Reaching out, Michael hesitates for a moment. It's incredible hard to let his caring side free, but it's even harder to not comfort the frightened kid. Gently laying his hand on one of the slim shoulders he says: „There's nothing to be afraid of. I won't let happen any harm to you.“, earning a confused glare of the angel eyes. And it isn't surprising him, gosh, he almost can't believe it himself saying something so…nice? Then how should litte Jason be able to believe it?

  
Getting closer he hears the big guy crash through the trees like a tank joined by some high pitched screetching noises only the little jerk can be the source of. If he wouldn't know it better, he would guess a rino is bashing straight towards them riden by a highly amused cheerleader. Frowning he feels his small companion tense even more under his hand wich is still laying soothingly on the stiffening shoulder. Sure, meeting up with you're super, ultra, mega shy and frightened self from the past, you definitely should be noisy like that! „That'll be fun…“, he sights, rolling his eyes.

  
\-----------------

  
Oh, and it is fun! Stepping aside, presenting Jason his own mini me, the look his big buddy expresses is priceless! Michael wouldn't have guessed Jason could look so smashed and unbelieving, but he does and though his feelings for the big guy are mostly positiv, his malicious joy- side is feasting and doing a victory dance. Let's see how easy it is to still stay calm, when you get confronted with your own past, dumbass!, he thinks, taking some more steps to the side and placing his hands to his hips. One slender finger sternly indicates the small devil to leave the big guys shoulders. With Jason standing there frozen, little Michael climps down the wide back as if Jason is a tree and quickly runs over to his big conterpart. „Is he broken?“, he asks stopping a few inches next to the demon. „We’ll see.“, is the curious sounding answer, while the demon keeps an eye on little Jason. The little one obviously petrified to a pillar too and with the minutes ticking by, nothing happenes exept the two of them staring at each other. Michael could swear he can see smoke rise up from the big guys head, desperately trying to comprehend what's standing in front of him. While the small version gives him a few helpless gazes, switching between Jason and him.

  
It's satisfiying to see the big guy struggle and literally be able to see the gears working on full speed inside the deformed head, but as satisfying as it is the demon gets bored fast. As well as his small version who's already impatiantely shifting from one foot to the other. Clearing his throat Michael eventually takes a few steps towards his big buddy: „You don't want to indroduce yourself?“, he asks smugly with one brow raised high. Jason hears him, Jason also understands what he said, but the only thing happening is his desperately looking eyes dart out to the devil. While they're pleading him to fucking help him, Michael isn't finished with enjoying Jasons poor state yet. „It's stunning isn't it?...“, he purrs when he reaches the frozen slasher and peevely lets his fingers dance over the broad shoulders, „You have to pull yourself together, you know.“ Feeling Jason twitch while the blue eyes are following him when he teasingly circles the lifing dead, he adds breathing into Jasons ear: „Don't freak out.“.

  
„Is it possible to stop with playing around and just leave me alone for a second?!“, Jason hisses from between his teeth, knowing exactly it most likely isn't.

  
„Oh, it is, but where's the fun with leaving you alone?“

  
„Michael, I swear if you don't stop…“, but he gets interrupted by the wide grinning demon leaning in close and whispering: „What? You'll beat me up? Stuff my cheeky mouth? Maybe not a good idea to do in front of that innocent kid I've gleaned.“.

  
The slender fingers trace up from the big guys chest over his neck to his jawline. „You have to play nice, remember?“, his smooth voice purrs evily, triggering a massiv urge inside Jason to pin the smug asshole down. One big hand grabs Michaels left upper arm firmly and while a deep, rumbling grunt pushes out from between the rotten lips, wich gets answered by a arrogant snarl and an impressive eyeroll, someone clears his throat and tugs on Jasons shirt. „Excuse me…“, little Michael says sounding as if about asking someone what time it is, „…We would like to go back to the cabin, caurse Jason is hungry and I am too!“. Both killers looking down at him, they notice that the kids obviously are much better in making the first contact than they are. The fuzzy haired boy is leaning one hand onto his hip, his stand expressing his impatience clearly, while his other hand is holding little Jasons one. Knowing each other for barely two minutes, they're already holding hands and little Michael, though he usually is highly antisocial, seemingly took the lead and care for little Jason. Who would've guessed that?

  
\-----------------

  
„What about reducing some tenseness?“, Michaels voice asks him when the elegant shape slowly crawls over him. „Maybe you would do good with relaxing a little bit.“

  
„You think this is a good idea with the two kids downstairs?“, Jason asks insecure, but neverthless welcoming the tempting body hovering over him.

  
„Pffft! They won't wake up till tomorrow morning. The day was exhausting and how I know at least the evil one, he'll sleep like a peacful and well behaved little psychopath.“, shoving up Jasons mask and planting a light kiss onto the cold lips, Michael isn't planning to let his big buddy go off the hook only becaurse of the little ones, „Also…the tiny you seemed to be more than glad to finally be able to sleep securely. Don't worry about them.“.

  
That's indeed true. Already about an hour before they had put the two kids to bed, little Jasons eyes had fallen shut several times and staying awake really seemed to get difficult. Though he still was afraid and weeping, his tiredness was stronger and he had fallen asleep the second his big self wrapped the blanket around him. While his demon now is slowly pulling up his shirt, Jason wonders how the hell he should explain to the kid who he is. He had decided being lost in the woods for four days and getting confronted with three completely strangers had been enough at once. So explaining who he is, is something he still has to accomplish, however that is supposed to work out! The little one sure isn't dump, but convincing him that he's talking to his adult self will get a hard task. He most likely won't be able to comprehend it fully. The hell! Jason himself doesn't gets the whole situation fully!

  
Sighting deeply he earns a slight punch to his side. „Am I boring you?“, the demons voice asks not amused about Jason drifting off. No, he isn't, but brooding about all the mess of the last days, Jason has problems with relaxing even only a little bit. „I can't think about something else than how I should explain the little one who I am…“, pressing his hands to his face and rubbing his eyes, he almost whines, „I just don't know what to do…Everything got so complicated, it's too much.“.

  
„You're worrying too much, you know? He'll understand and if not...so what? We can't do nothing about the shit happening right now.“, chuckling Michaels lips brush over Jasons again, „…But if it stresses you that much, maybe I should try to make you forget about it at least for a few moments…How sounds that, my murderous guardian of camp crystal lake?“.

And if the devils grin gets even wider, Jason would think he's in bed with a shark. A dangerous, clever, sneaky and irresistable shark with it's mouth full of several rows of deadly teeth. Teeth that could bore into his flesh opening up a valve again…Moaining quietly into their kiss his demon started without waiting for an answer, Jason really gets caught up in that thought. It almost pushes the other dashing around thoughts out of his head…almost. Feeling said teeth nibble at his bottom lip, first gently and careful, then rudlier and wilder, it gets very hard to concentrate on everything going on. Though his mini me won't leave his brain. „Michael…“, he breathes grabbing the demon by his shoulders to slightly push him away a little, „…What the hell should we do?“, the big guy asks desperately. The blue eyes are norrowed and the brows knitted as well. Giving Michael such a pleading gaze, he appears like the kid out of the root-cave. The big, blue orbs of the little one had given him the same insecure and desperate look the second they saw him.

„You seriously want to discuss that now?“, Michael asks not hiding the slight pitch of foulness in his voice. Yes, the situation is complicated, twisted, fucked up and would be too much for every mentally healthy person to bear, but gosh! All he wants right now and already wanted the whole long day, is certainly not to chat with his big buddy! Seeing the big guy nod his head is not the answer he hoped for. But how else should it be? The day sucked from the morning on and obviously there's no end in sight. Grunting slightly pissed, he rolls on his side: Well, go on…“, he snarls, waving an impatient hand at Jason.

  
„I…I just have no clue what to do now. How is everything supposed to go on? The two of us playing happy family with the kids?? As if that would go well for longer than ten minutes!“, Jason says a little faster as he intended to, knowing damn well ten minutes are more than generously estimated.

  
„Ummm, yeah it won't…also you know, for me, the terms happy and family doesn't belong into the same sentence. Not even into the same conversation, but what else should we do than accept the situation as it is currently?“  
A mischievous smile stretches the demons soft lips and with his black eyes sparkling threateningly, he adds sounding way too thrilled for Jasons taste: „If you want to get rid of them, I'm all in! Give me permission and the problem will be solved in under two minutes. Well, maybe a bit longer…depends on the methods I'll use, but you'll no longer have to break your beautiful bumpy head into two and I'll work exact and clean.“

  
„You know I didn't mean it that way…“, the bigger slasher sights exhaustedly, pinching the remaining part of the bridge of his nose. No, he definitely doesn't meant it that way, though it would be the easiest solution he has to admit. The little ones don't belong to the here and now, however it is even possible they‘ve showed up in the first place. They shouldn't be here, but, fortunately for them, Jason doesn't shares the devils coldness towards every other being. And anyways sometimes the easiest way isn't necessarily the best! Even if he has no fucking idea how they should continue from now on. Michael, who's picture certainly is placed next to the word _psychopath_  in the lexicon, definitely isn't qualified for caring for children. Neither is he. He never has cared for someone else, on contrary his mother had cared for him entirely! How by all demons is he supposed to care for gleich two kids?! He, the king of clumsyness and master of being way too slow, way too often.

  
Frowning deeply, his eyes lose the gaze of the black ones. „It's a complete desaster…“, he whispers, feeling helpless and overwhelmed. „It's just too much.“

  
Wanting to just hide from the world around him, Jason presses his hands to his face. He want's to disappear, disappear to somewhere where his only concern are stupid humans coming to the camp again! „Oh, come on! Don't be a sissy, you giant toddler!“, Michael spits at him, but he's sounding more amused than mad. Gently grabbing the cold hands and lifting them up from the deformed face, he says: „We can't change it, we obviously can't control it, hell, we even can't understand it! Stop worrying about things out of your control. And you know damn well, that's something I wouldn't say flippantly, being in need for absolut control and everything, but…sometimes there're circumstances you can't control or influence, no matter how bad you feel with them.“.

  
When the water spirits blue eyes focus on the demons black ones again, Jason thinks he's dreaming, caurse he never experienced his demon being so rational before. His gaze is unusal calm and the unfamilar reasonable words, wich are again flowing from the demons lips like liquid velvet, are making absolut sense. How fucking freaky is that?! But it will get even freakier…

  
„At the sanatorium…“, Michael starts and Jason barely trusts his ears. Mister- _My memories and past are none of your fucking business_ talking about the sanatorium? Did hell freeze? Or did he accidentally passed a wormhole and ended up in a different dimension? Whatever it is and no matter how strange it is, Michael shifting his gaze to the sheets and absently brushing his fingertips over Jasons collarbone, continues: „…I got no control at all. Nothing. They told me when to eat, when to sleep, when to shower, what to wear, christ in some certain situations even if I was allowed to move or not. They controlled me, watched me, controlled every tiny detail of the day and night. The only things I kept control over were my thoughts and the decision to talk or rather work with them or not. Refusing the second resulted in getting drugged and reguallary in them trying to trick me somehow. You certainly can imagine how much insaine it has driven me by every fucking passing day and I'm convinced I hadn't been that insaine like I'm now when I first arrived there…“. Focusing on Jason again, who is looking at him as if he is some kind of a visitor from another planet, Michael hears all his security alarms wildely shrilling in his head. Huge signs are popping up, asking him what the hell he's doing and that he really shouldn't open up so much. Oh, insecureness what a loud bitch you are! Clearing his throat, he decides that it's enough of story time for now. „Uumm however…the point is, that there are things wich can't be controlled. Either you accept it or you possibly lose your mind trying to influence it somehow. I guess you can trust my opinion, caurse to be honest, I'm an expert on the domain of losing your mind. Actually, there's nothing we can do than accept it…since you didn't want me to pull us out of that unbelievable huge pile of shit my way…“

  
„…But you’re lucky, caurse I know how to make you forget about it for at least a while…“, leaning in, the devil breathes onto Jasons lips.

  
Without any circumlocution his shirt gets pulled over his head and letting him no chance to ask anything, Michael, skilled as he is, makes his way down his chest with that wicked pair of lips and hands of his. A relieved moan leaves the rotten lips and though Jasons mind is still rotating around their current vexig situation, he isn't able to resist his tempting, evil psychopath. Maybe Michael is right. Maybe he really needs to relax a bit and just accept things as they are, since he can't do anything else. Devoring him alive is the thing he definitely is right with! Feeling the soft lips wander from his chest down to his stomach and automatically running his fingers through the smooth hair, the flame-like energy also rushes into him. It's weird, but this time it seems like it's the soothing one. Usually it's flickering and raging, but now it feels pleasantly warm, letting a fluffy and comfortably feeling spread through him. As if warming yourself up on a fire place after spending the whole day out in the bitter cold winter.

  
Soon, the demonic mage is the only thought left in Jasons mind. With his dark magic, he banns anything else and not the least with his lips and teeth tracing the outlines of Jasons already in interest twitching cock. You can think of him whatever you may want, but you can't say Michael isn't extremely talented in pushing the exact right buttoms. That talent paired with his evilness is a lethal mixture! Feeling the slender fingers undo his pants, Jason tenses. „Relax…“, the demon immediately reacts, sounding so soft and sweet that the big guy really isn't able to do anything else than obey. And obeying it is what he does, forcing himself to relax as much as possible while all his muscles actually want to tense strongly. Closing his eyes and trying to not squeeze them shut uptight, he surrenders to Michael entirely. No matter what the nasty and dirty brain of the psychopath is cooking up, it most likely will be fucking amazing. So, instead of almost diying from tenseness and worries, Jason can as good as give in and enjoy what the devil is gifting him.

  
The second Lucifers tounge slowly traces up and down his full lenghts, the „ **currently out of order** “-sign gets pinned to Jasons brain. Yap, he's doomed, definitely and totally doomed. Trying to muffle his moans earns him an amused chuckle before that damn pair of hot and so soft lips wraps around his wide tip. Both of his hands dash up, pressing down firmly onto his mouth. Otherwise the deep, vibrating and rumbling groan forcing out his throat would certainly wake every being in a fourty feet radius. An amused chuckly sounds up again, muffled by Jasons hard member and the same time sending tingling vibrations through it. „Fuck…“, he mutters shakily behind his hands and indeed fuck it is what his whole body is screaming for now. But with his nails digging deep into the rotten flesh of Jasons lower stomach, his demon is sternly pinning him down. Not that it bothers him, oh no! Michaels mouth feels at least just as amazing. In contrast to his own low body temperatur it also feels unbelievingly hot and the skilled tongue eagerly sliding over and around his tip almost drives him crazy. The little detail what pushes him into absolut madness is the throbbing pain Michaels nails are treating him with. God, it would be so amazing if his demon had claws just like a demon from hell as you imagine it! Though, Michaels ordinary nails are enough to send a burning sensation over Jasons nerves.

  
And the lord of darkness and teasing exactly knows about his effect on Jason. Sucking in the truly biggest cock he ever had the pleasure to lay his lips around extra slowly inch by inch, he thrilledly listens to the big guys louder and more impatient getting moans. He's trying to buck up his hips, but driving his nails deeper into the cold flesh makes him behave, at least for a few moments. Meanwhile Jason is pressing his hands onto his mouth so hard and biting down his lower lip, that no increasing is possible. If Michael goes farther, it will get loud, very loud! And obviously the demon doesn't gives a flipping shit about that fact. While bobbing his head in a really nice and slow rythm, with every move downwards his big boys dick slides in deeper. Biting down his lip so hard, blood begins to flow down his chin, Jason wonders exactly how deep it may be possible for Michael to suck his cock in. Normally everybody has a gag-reflex right? Right…normally, but Michael seemingly is able to supress that reflex, caurse bobbing his head once more, Jason gets sucked into the slicky heat completely. „Jumping Jesus…!“, it unbelievingly, but amazed bursts out of him, grabbing the demons head between his big hands without even noticing. Though Jasons massiv shaft filling his throat, Michael is able to give another muffled chuckle when he hears and feels the reaction his big buddy is expressing. And damn, if the vibration doesn't feels mind blowing around his cock!

  
With his eyes rolling back into his head, Jason instinctively holds the demons head in place. It feels so amazing, so fucking amazing and he doesn't wants it to end! When Michael swallows around his pulsing dick, letting the muscles in his throat contract, he can't hold back his moaning anymore. It's useless to try and while his hands fist hard into the soft, brown hair, there's nothing left to do than moan out all the pleasure his devil is giving him so perfectly. To the big guys disappointment a few seconds later Michael lifts his head, sucking his way up and eventually releasing Jason out of his mouth with a loud plop. „What?“, he asks wiping some salvia from his slightly swollen lips and inhaling a much needed breath, while the blue eyes of the lifing dead are staring at him partly puzzled, partly thrilled.

  
„Fuck…don't you have a gag reflex?“, the big guy asks huskyly.  
Grinning wide, caurse a stunned Jason is a really adorable Jason and even more adorable when he's totally bashed by something he did to him, Michael answers: „I do…well, I did...“  
„…But having none, definitely has more advantages and brings more fun than having one.“

  
„True…“, and with that Jason straightenes up fast. Usually he's not one from the quick and fast sort, but now, manhandling the devil onto his back and pinning him down happens within fractions of seconds. A surprised and insisting groal is thrown at him, while the slender hands push against his chest. „What…“, Michael starts, but gets muted by the rotten lips pressing onto his fast. Still pushing against the big guys chest and trying to wiggle out from under him, the devils heart pounts hard in his chest. So hard it feels like it's about to break through his thorax and will jump out of it. Jason suddenly laying him is something he hadn't expected. „The shit are you doing?!“, he angrily mumbles into his big boys mouth, but also can't really resist the cold lips and tongue kissing him so hungryly. Jasons weight pressing him down, though it gets a little difficult to breath proppertly, somehow feels good on top of him. When was the last time he had fallen into submission? Hell, it's been forever and also he never had allowed himself to submit fully. But now, the thought gets more tempting than he likes it to get…

  
„You do remember our little agreement, right?“, Michael snarls warningly, hoping Jason won't notice he actually enjoys what the big guy‘s doing.

  
„I do…“

  
„Good…and what exactly makes you’re fried brain think behaving like this is ok then?!“

  
„I just can't…“, is the unsatisfying and unexplaining answer, before the zipper of the demons overall goes south quickly. _Can't what? Count? Read? Conjugate? What?!_ , Michaels completion needing mind yells, but gets it's mouth stuffed by the sensation the cold hands are caursing while sliding under the opened up overall. Frowning and clenching his jaw hard, Michaels slender hands dart up, grabbing the deformed face not all too gentle. Giving Jason a furious glare and huffing angrily, behind the black eyes a fight breaks lose about letting Jason go on or grab one of the knifes from the nightstand to ram it into the high-spirited slashers neck. As much as Michael wants to defend his position, the same time a certain part of him wants to allow Jason to do as he please. „Don't count that as a free pass!“, he hisses eventually sounding like the unholy snake from Jasons mothers stories when he was a kid. The next second the demons head lifts up, continueing their interrupted kiss widly. And damn, not even an atomic bomb or the erruption of a super vulcano could stop Jason now. No, not with Michael allowing him to truly take over control this time!

  
Rudely and literally ripping the dark blue fabric from the pale skin, it takes just a few short moments to undress his tempting psychopath. No, there's nothing else left than pure and pressing desire, mixed with hunger and a blinding need to satisfy. Being afraid to hurt Michael? Nope! Meanwhile Jason figured out to one hundred percent that hurting Michael is a very difficult and not quickly done thing. Also judging the demons lustfilled little moans and whimpers slipping past his soft lips in reply to every touch and friction, he's definitely enjoying it, no matter what he had said just minutes earlier. Even his energy switches places and gets wrapped into Jasons now without giving any resistance.

  
The big guy isn't sure where the sudden boost of self-confidence is coming from, maybe it's only his instincts taking over triggered by the devils evil teasing, but where ever it may come from it's something he could get used to. Breathing heavily and with Michael neatly positioned under him, he finally hits home again. There's no better feeling in the whole wide world, pah not in all possibly existing worlds, than being one with the most evil, but also most precious being he ever met. Taking up a slow rythm and drawing out some relieved sounding moans of the demon, nothing else matters anymore. His overtaxed brain even forgets about the kids, filled with nothing else but burning pleasure and the deep rooted need to burry deep into his beloved mate.

  
When the demons tights wrap around his hips, pulling him in even deeper, they obviously found the exact right angle. Caurse with every thrust, his demons voice moans louder and pitches higher while the masked face hides in the crook of his neck and the slender hands hold on to him thight. No matter why Michael allows him to be in control, it definitely was one of his best ideas. The demon is meeting his thrusts greedely, pleading for more friction while Jason can feel their auras melt into each other.  
Indeed Michaels brain has stopped to bother about the control-thing. The only thing it's busy with right now is comprehending the insane jolts of pleasure wich are running up and down his nervestrings everytime Jason hits all the right spots inside him. Though Jason usually is clumsy as an baby elefant and rought like a mallet, driving him mad with his surprisingly perfect way to fuck him is one of the abilities the big guy is a freaking genius in. Squeezing his eyes shut and unable to hold back his groals, even if he would try, Michael feels like lightnings are shooting through his body. Nerves are working with tiny electrical jolts he knows, but it never was so clear and literally sensable before. It feels so overwhelming that, when he lets his head fall back onto the matress again, he starts to desperately moan his big boys name. Something he had never ever done even once before, no matter who it was he slept with. Someone would think being locked up in a sanatorium is an absolute cock-blocker, but nooo, it really is not. Also during his little trips to Haddonfield he always had hooked up with somebody. You can't know how long it will take until the next time, so better taking everything you can get, right? But moaning out the name of one of the several someones? No, never. He always thought about it as something weak. Something that pushes him into a vulnerable position and would express way too much of his need.

  
Now, this evening seems to be an evening of a few first times. First time giving up all control, first time screaming someones name while getting his mind fucked blank, first time submitting fully, first time actually acting the way he always wanted. It never had been possible to do only one of the things, but with Jason and the fact that the devil indeed trusts his big buddy, it finally is possible!

  
„Jay…I…“, Michael suddenly breathes clipped, seeming as if he can't find the words he's looking for.  
Keeping on his slow but deep pace, one cold hand cups his devils face. Jason knits his brows in effort, caurse yap, it is incredible hard to listen to Michael now! But as always he tries his best, though concentrating on two things at once and specially when one of the things includes the demons intense heat devoring him alive, Jason always feels like he has to split himself into two.

  
„I just…shit, I…“, stuttering Michael presses his hands onto his face hiding it additionally though the mask. Suddenly his cheeks are burning and the only thing mildering his current emberrassement is his mask hiding the extrem blush spreading across his face.

  
„I mean…I-I… trust you!“. Geesh, that was close, so close, but even with his brain feeling like melting from all the stimulation it has to comprehend, he just can't say it out loud. No, never, never ever in his whole immortal life will he be able to say it out loud, not even if someone would hold a gun to his head. He knows it, though he always truly thought he wasn't able to develop such complex feelings, it had happened. It had happened and it's all Jasons fault! The big guy turned his actual cold and always locked up mind into something fluffy, soft and weak by being so rediculously lovely and tempting. So rediculously understanding and full of care. So kind and true…By being the first one who said he loves him and Michael really believes. The first one he doesn't generally suspects to pull some shit in the end…

  
Peeping from between his fingers, he sees the wide smile stretching across Jasons face. His blue eyes are sparkling and looking at him like a starving person must look at a laid table. As if everything the big guy wants and needs is him, obviously more than delighted by his confession. No matter how it bothers the demon to almost let slip something out, what better remains inside and that he got morphed into some weird being what actually feels on a deeper level, he can't be mad at his broad slasher giving him such a stupid smile that is so stupid that it is adorable again.

  
„You're bad company, I hope you know that...“, he mumbles trailing off into a long moan, feeling Jasons lenghts slowly slide into him all the way again. Chuckling deeply before he expresses the same long moan, Jason answers while looking into that amazing pair of hazy black eyes: „I love you too…“.

  
\------------------

  
Tiredly blinking his eyes open, Michael gets waked the next morning by the chirping of birds. Rubbing his eyes and sighting while slowly sitting up, the shit birds outside are sounding as if performing a singing battle. Though he's at the camp since six month now, he still hasn't got used to the sound of nature fully. Back at the sanatorium, with the windows always shut, locked and barred, he rarely heared any birds or the wind or anything else going on outside. The sound of that lost place cosisted of mumbling out on the hallway, beds and other things getting rolled from a to b, sometimes someone screaming, yelling or making strange noises and specially at nights the schrill screeching alarm when someone was throwing a tantrum and had to get fixated and/or sedated. Not infrequently himself, having horrible nightmares during the nights or freaking out becaurse of the voices inside his head never shutting up.

Running his hands through his hair what feels like the worsest bedhair in history of worse bedhair, he remembers one certain night when it all got too much to handle for him. Inside his head the talking got louder and louder, mingled so much that he couldn't understand one fucking word and when he did, it hadn't pleased him what the voices were whispering to him. Back then, curled up into a little ball on his bed and pressing his hands onto his ears, he had felt like the last remaining bit of sense was leaving him eventually. The mess of the voices was getting unbearable and his whole body had felt like being out nacked while a blizzard was raging. He had been shaking and breathing rapidely, cold sweat had covered him and while trying to block out the voices, he had started to rock his curled up body. Indeed the whole freakshow he was experiencing, plus a row of panic attacks had been enough to push him over the last border. Feeling his skin crawl he had jumped up from the bed, dashed across his small cell and eventually hit his head hard against the wall opposite his bed. It hadn't taken long until blood ran down from his forhead and though his brain started to feel as if hit by a train and his vision started to get blurry, the voices hadn't fell silent. He remembers yelling „Shut up!“ into the empty room over and over again while almost breaking his skull until the door had flown open and three nurses wrestled him down. After that everything had went black, but even through that sedativum indicated darkness and eventually sleep, he had still heared the voices whispering to him.

  
Feeling the same coldness again now, brought back to live by his memories, he's glad at least the voices stopped as soon as he got to the camp. Well, they haven't stopped entirely, but currently it has become very rare to hear them hissing and mumbling inside his twisted head. Indeed, since he got to the camp, though he's still far away from being mentally healthy and had snapped almost regulary, he feels calmer and more stable than ever before. Maybe becaurse here, he's able to relax since a really long while, caurse he hasn't to expect any harm to any time. Maybe becaurse he feels free here, even when in truth it's a limited freedome. Or maybe becaurse Jason has a soothing and healing influance on him, as emberrassing as that is! His whole life he had fought on his own, wasn't depending to anyone and was proud of it. And now? Only imagine to possibly lose the big guy one day lets cold shivers run up and down his spine. God, it even has gotten so far that last night he was damn close to say something he definitely would regret afterwards. Also how by all demons should someone like him be able to love someone „right“??! You can't do something propertely, you've never learned. People learn by experience and well, his experiences surely aren't helping with that. Jason got to important to him, to disapoint the big guy with being unable to express an emotion he has absolutely no clue of. Better not telling him about anything and instead try to return his affection as good as he's able to.

  
Pulling up his knees to his chin, hugging his legs and feeling his chest clench tightly, the demon stares out of the window. It's a beautiful and bright day and he must've slept into the late noon. The sky's a rich blue with some tiny white clouds floating over it, but he can't see it. The black eyes are staring into nothing, while the heavy feeling of being worthless and not worthy of even lifing creeps back into him. It's an old companion and no matter how lonely he felt, this fellow always gave him company. Last night, after telling Jason he trusts him and saving his self from saying something stupid in the last moment, his big buddy had got even more tender and gentlier. The hazy gaze of the blue eyes was showing off so much adoreation and want, it had been hard to directly look into them. Also the big slashers soft touches, tender carassing and literally worshipping of the demons whole being almost had been too much to stand. Never before had someone been so gentle with him, treated him so fondly and as if he was something precious and special. It had felt good, so good Michael had problems to hold back his tears. Fortunately his lustfilled brain had gotten so blurry that it was enough to distract him. Though the little voice in the back of his mind, telling him he doesn't deserves it and that he's not worthy getting treated that way stayed. Only when he reached the peak of his pleasure, crying out Jasons name and clinging hard to the broad frame while his body got shaken by, to be honest, the most intense orgasm he had ever experienced, the voice had dissappeared for a short moment. Feeling Jason shooting his load into him, pushing in as deep as possible while the deformed face hid in the crook of his neck and the rumbling voice also moaned his name, perhaps had been the most amazing sensation the demon had ever felt. It had felt like the water spirits energy was filling him entirely and for a blink of an eye, all the fear, the pain, the darkness, the anger had left him.

  
Coming down from the high his orgasm had giving him, Jason had wrapped his arms around Michael possesively and planting a kiss into the slightly sweaty hair his deep voice had said absolutely credible: „I love you so much, Michael.“. Caursing the demons chest to tighten and sting. Hiding his face to the broad chest, Michael hadn't said anything in reply. After a while, his big boy had started to snore as he always does when he sleeps, still holding him tight in a cold embrace.

„ _You know that you don't deserv this right? You're a worthless mistake that shouldn't even be here and now you're exploiting the only one who is stupid enough to like you. He'll realize what you are soon and then he'll leave you as fast as he can. Face it, you'll never be good enough._ “, the familar mocking voice had whispered to him.

  
Feeling hot tears prickle at the corners of his eyes, Michael hides his face to his blanket covered knees. Smelling Jasons earthy scent on it is enough to let them dwell out of his squeezed shut eyes and run down his masked covered cheeks. The voice is right. No matter how hard he'll try, he'll never be able to give Jason what the he's longing for.

 

 


	16. Abducted by squirrels and bunnies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm painly slow, BUT chapter 17 is almost done as well and I'm looking forward to post it the latest on sunday :D  
> Also I just wanted to thank you all again for reading my mess and all the comments and kudos <3

He feels weak, so damn weak and no matter how hard he tries to open his eyes, it doesn't works for longer than a fraction of a second. His head hurts, gosh it's aching as if a truck had hit him! A growl ripples through the air and it takes him quiet a while to get that it was him who growled. Feeling the whole room spinning and as if his body weights at least a ton, a light noise reaches his ears. Christ, what the heck is that? Seemingly it's not only enough that his head is throbbing violently, no, the bright noise has to additionally sting in his ears! The vibration rising up in his chest tells him he's moaing in pain, reacting to the unidentified sound. It's like everything is going on in slow motion and he only notices that he rolled over onto his side, when his body curls up into a little ball on the white sheets.

The noise sounds up again, now a little bit clearer, but still he isn't able to identify it. It sounds high pitched and fading, as if extremely far away. However, hiding his face into his palms, he doesn't even wants to know what it is. „Leave me alone…“, he pleads also hearing his own voice as if into a far distance. Fuck, it feels as if his mind tried to part from his body and now as it is back, something‘s messed up terriblely.   
Breathing heavily, he hears it again.

„Michael?“, it says now more clearer and closer.

  
„Shut up!“, the demon yells regretting it immediately and pushing his fingers into his eyes, desperately trying to alleviate the pain rushing through his skull. He's used to headaches, but this one really is the queen of all all headaches he ever experienced. Not even after getting drunk as fuck and high as a kite, the headaches had been this bad! Getting high, oh it sounds so tempting inside is buzzing mind. It surely would make the pain go away!

  
„Michael!“, it sounds up again, this time more sternly and even closer while it feels as if someone is shaking him slightly.

  
„For fucks sake, leave me alone!“, a begging whine escapes his throat. All he wants is to sleep or get unconscious or die, yes die, even dying would be better than feeling like this! And what the fucking hell is actually that obstrusvely and constantly beeping??! Ah, screw what it is, it's toring into his brain like a blade with a rapid rythm and with every beep his body twitches in pain.

  
„Michael, wake up!“

  
Suddenly, feeling like getting thrown into ice cold water, he dashes up, panting heavily, his heart racing inside his chest. The black eyes dart around, his vision still slightly blurry and his head spinning so much, that he fears to puke every second. „Are you ok?“, the bright noise asks him, but focusing on the sorce takes him quiet a while. When his vision focuses, he sees a pair of huge blue eyes staring at him, widened fully and loaded with confusion. He's still panting and streams of cold sweat are running down his temples, but finally he recognizes the inside of his hide out up on the roof and small Jason who's kneeling next to him.

„What happened?“, Michael whispers not daring to raise is voice again.

  
„You were asleep and wouldn't wake up…and you mumbled strange things and breathed weird.“

  
„Well, I have strange dreams, so…“, the demon breaths, rubbing his eyes while trying not to fall straight back again caurse of the dizzyness his head is giving him. Feeling a small hand lay down on his tight, he twitches while cursing mentally about his jumpyness every time after a nightmare. „I'm fine. Don't worry…“, he lies and quickly changes the subject, „…By the way…what are you doing up here? Jay certainly won't be amused about you dancing around on the roof.“.

Watching the blue eyes widen and literally able to see the rushing thoughts inside the deformed head, little Jason obviously didn't thought about if he's allowed to climb up the roof or not. „You think he'll be mad at me?“, he mutters, the young voice filled with insecureness while the small hand slightly clenches the fabric of the overall. The demon isn't able to supress a tiny smirk, fortunately hidden by his mask. It may be not good to be this insecure and anxious, but it makes the boy so adorable, it almost hurts! „Ummm maybe…but don't worry, if he's mad at you, I'll show him what mad means.“

  
A relieved little smile plays along the lips of the little one. First he had been afraid as hell of the tall, masked men and he had been certain Michael would do something very bad to him. The demon as good as could've been a figure right out of his nightmares, but after a few days spent at his seemingly new home, he actually starts to like the frightening guy. Though Michael often is grumpy and rather wants to be all by himself than with them, little Jason feels more and more safe in the presence of the devil. The reason why he sneaked up onto the roof is guessing the demon would be up there, caurse when he asked big Jason the last few evenings where Michael was, he always had answered up on the roof. Kneeling in between the soft pillows and blankets, the gaze of the baby blue eyes wanders around the selfmade shelter. He's thrilled by the hide out, which kid wouldn't? Watching the lines of books standing on the shelfes, the demons deep voice jerks the little one out of his thoughts: „Want to read one of them?“.

  
With his head snapping back to focuse on Michael and ashamedly avoiding the dark gaze, Jason hesitates, but eventually confesses stuttering: „I'm…I'm not good in reading.“. The small hands are nervously fumbling with the sleeves of the light yellow sweater he's wearing and Michael can see tenseness grabbing the tiny body. Remembering the mocking Jason experienced as a kid, bad reading skills sure weren't helpfull with that. „That's ok…“, Michael says soft and reassuringly, turning around to catch one of the storybooks, „…But then you should above all read to improve your skills.“

  
Placing the book in the suprised little ones lap, he gestures with a waving hand to start reading, grabbing a book for himself though he doubts he will be able to concentrate on something. The huge eyes are staring at him for long moments until little Jason also openes his book and begins to read. Michael watches him carefully from the corner of his eye, he's frowning deeply in concentration and with every syllable he reads, his lips sync the readen words. It really is cute and no matter how much kids annoy him usually, this one seems to be the exception. Something from deep within tells him he has to take care of the boy and if Michael wants it or not, it's nothing he could easily ignore. No, though sometimes he's slightly creeped by himself, he would never be able to treat little Jason the same way he treats the little maniac from his own past. His younger self is a pain in the ass, a little fucker so smug and sassy that it really is hard to not give him a nice spanking, but little Jason? He's the exact opposite! Not the least Michael knows what‘s slumbering inside his mini me. That alone is enough to highly dislike him and certainly inside little Jason hides nothing even considerable to it. No, all he is, is purely innocent and there's truly nothing he could do to make Michael lash out. Never, as strange as it is!

  
Sitting there with crossed legs and one shoulder leaned against the wooden wall while pretending to read as well, in truth Michael gets more and more caught up into decent dark thoughts. Since the night he almost had told Jason he loves him, he had avoided to get too close to the big guy and one of the many voices inside his loony mind had returned. Everytime the strong arms had slid around his waist, a light kiss had been placed onto his neck, the cold fingers had run through his hair or Jason had embraced him tightly at night, his heart had sank. Normally the big guys closeness should feel good and his affection should push the demons ego, but during the last few days, every close contact triggert the mean voice in the back of his mind to remind him how he wasn't worth enough to get such a gentle treatment. That Jason actually should treat him the same way his father did. That it would be the right way to treat a being low as him.   
Sighting deeply he asks himself what the fuck had actually happened to turn his years long builded up and exaggerate self-confidence into doubts and uncertainty again. It had been such a long way to build up the walls to protect himself, to get into that behavior schematic of carelessness and arroganz and now? Vanished as if someone had flicked and it all had blown up into thin smoke. That certain someone is Jason, no doubts about that. He had managed to sneak behind the thick walls and watch through the demons exaggerate faked behavior just to let everything he had worked so hard for fade away. Getting aware of his totally new and foreign feelings had given him the rest, letting the walls collapse and leaving him vulnerable and helpless. _Thanks for that, asshole!_ , he thinks grumpily losening his grip on the book his hands clenched a little to tight by his uneasy thoughts. He glimpses at the boy next to him, hoping he hasn't noticed about his darkening mood, but the kid still is giving much effort in beating the story and seemingly isn't noticing anything else anymore.

  
Drifting back into his mind, Michael gets surer and surer it would've been much less of trouble if Jason would've just been a little more roughter with him. He most likely wouldn't have developed the feelings he has to deal with now and everything would be much more easier for both of them. Of course Jason had noticed the devils withdrawing, but either he's too polite or too understanding to ask any questions. Whatever it may be, Michael is fucking glad about it. The last thing he needs now are curious questions about what's going on when he himself can't explain it completely. What should he say? „Oh hey, sorry but there's a voice inside my head and it tells me I'm not worth of you're love. So, could you please start to treat me like shit and beat me up as often as possible to make me feel better? That would be really kind of you! And anyways, I have no fucking idea how I'm supposed to reply to your feelings and will never. But waiting an eternity for something that won't happen sure is no problem for you, right?“. As if! Even when it's only the truth.

  
Absently gritting his teeth and desperately brooding about what to do now, it's Jasons stomping what rips him out of his thoughts ungently. He's on his way up to the roof, mildly cursing becaurse of the narrowness of the atic. He's so crude, Michael thinks smiling slightly, caurse his big buddys clumsyness in truth is something he came to find very appealing, well most of the time. The banging footsteps are also catching the little ones attention and he's shooting Michael a worried gaze as they get closer.

Appearing at the entrance of the shelter, the first thing the booming voice asks is: „What is he doing up here?“, pointing a thumb at the kid. It would've been a wonder if not!

  
„He looked for me and we decided to read a little.“, the demon says, yet still calmly , while awaringly straightening up.

  
„He shouldn't be up here. It's too dangerous.“

  
„Oh come on, what should happen to him up here with me?“

  
„He could injure himself. Or what if he falls down the damn roof? He's maybe not as resistant as we are.“

  
Crawling out of the secureness of his shelter and facing Jason while stepping in close, Michael feels a not to spit on ammount of anger boil up in the pit of his stomache. Why has Jason to be so damn over protective?! Getting mask to mask with the slightly bigger slasher he hisses: „You think I wasn't paing any attention?“. Narrowing his eyes, he can tell Jason isn't sure how to react and a little bit insecure, caurse their last fight is a while ago. It was the day the little manic downstairs blow one becaurse of brushing his hair, since then not at least becaurse of Michaels withdrawing, they hadn't been fighting again. But it doesn't takes long for the pure blue eyes to narrow as well and the rumbling voice to raise in volume. „I'm sure you did, but you're not quiet the guy to care for a kid, you have to admit…“, leaning in closer caurse Jason can play this game too he adds: „…Also it's just too dangerous even if you payed all of your attention.“.

  
„Says the one who noticed one kid is missing after more of an hour.“, the demon mocks, taking a step back while folding his arms in front of his chest. Oh no, mommas boy definitely won't tell him what he's able to and what not! The big slashers shoulders square and looking past Michael he tells his young self with faked calmness to go down and join little Michael. The boy immediately does as he's told, fastly crawling out of the shelter, shooting Michael a last worried gaze before he climbs down to the attic.

  
„You're such a killjoy.“, the demon grumbles angrily while turning his back at Jason, about to return into the security of his small shelter. All he wants is to sleep the rest of the day, hoping the nightmares would spare him. A strong hand grabs his arm firmly and spins him around. „What the hell is your actual problem?“, Jason growls deep, looking into the with anger flickering eyes and squeezes the biceps tighter. If Michael would be able to kill using only his gaze, Jason is sure he would die immediately.   
„Let go of me.“, he spits baring his teeth behind the mask, though he's certain Jason understands the meaning in the warning pitch of his voice.

  
„You're acting weird the last few days. Mind to tell me what the heck is sticking up your ass?“

  
And yes, spending time with Michael really had a slightly bad influence on Jason. Not in general, but meanwhile he's almost swearing as much and as intense as the devil is. If his mother could hear him he would get the spanking of his life! And Michael would too for making him become like this. She wouldn't be happy with neither of them.

  
„Oh, you want to know?...“, Michaels says with a faked lightness in his voice, „…I already told you everything concerning my mind is none of your fucking buisiness, dumbass!“, literally spitting out the last words, he tears away from the rude grip.

  
„So you think it'll get any better when you keep up with shutting everything down? If you tell me, maybe I can help with it.“

  
A loud bark of saracastic laughter is the response Jason gets and it's stinging his chest. He wants to help, truly help Michael with whatever is bothering him so much that he even avoids him now. Seeing the demon react like this really hurts. Leaning against the frame of the shelter his demon asks him smugly: „What the actuall hell makes you think you could help me?“ Quickly raising a hand he improving himself: „No better, what makes you think I need your help?!“.

  
„Well…“, Jason starts, taking slow and cautious steps towards Michael, „…There‘re obviously things making you feel bad and I don't want you to feel bad. I just want to help, Michael. I've seen what you‘ve been through. If you open up just a little, maybe we can find a way to make you suffer a little less. All I want is you to be happy, you know that right?“. Finishing his last sentence he's standing right in front of Michael, who's not moving an inch and just stares at him with a gaze not readable. It's empty and Jason has no clue whats going on behind the emotionesless black eyes, but though he slides his arms around the demons waist, hoping to calm and comfort him instead of caursing a tantrum.

  
Jasons gentle words are hitting him like bullets. With every soothing tone, the voice inside his head gets louder and louder. „ _Look at him! So kind and understanding. Do you really want to exploit him?_ “ He shakes his head, trying to push it away, but it's obstinately and when the strong arms wrap around him tenderly it gets so loud that it literally rings in his ears. „ _You little waste of space, what do you think you're doing?! His hands should break you're damn bones, not touch you as if you were something special. Back away! If you don't you'll hurt him for sure and that certainly isn't something you want to do to the only one who ever felt positively towards you, or is it?_ “

  
„Jay…“, Michael begins to mutter shakily, but stops at the voice talking again.

  
„ _You have no right to get treated this way. You'll fuck it up, as you always do. Do him a favor and fuck off!_ “

  
Flinching away from the gently embrace, he almost trips over his own feet. The voice is right, it always is right. Jason is such a good guy and he just would drag him down to his level, no matter how hard he would try not to. Feeling his chest clench in panic and his breathing getting rapid, Michael runs past the by surpirsed taken Jason. He hears the deep voice yell something, but it feels like his head is wrapped into a thick fog. Jumping down the roof trap, the next thing he knows is dashing out of the front door unable to stop his legs from moving. He doesn't knows where he's heading to, but it doesn't matters anyways. As long as he gets away from Jason as far as possible, everything will be fine for the big guy.

  
\-----------------

  
The others big, dark eyes are eyeing him curiously when little Jason gets down to the living area. The small devil is sitting in the middle of the room, crossed legged and seemingly is scribbeling something onto a papersheet laying in front of him. Jason slowly walkes over, plopping down onto the wooden floor too. „What’s wrong?“, Michael asks after watching Jason for a short while. A deep frown lays upon the deformed face and the boy nervously picks on his fingernails. Something happened and is upsetting him. Looking up from his hands and only shyly meeting the black eyes questioning gaze, he mutters: „They're fighting.“. He never liked it when people fought about something and the both slashers fighting truly frightened and worried him. Specially becaurse he's the reason for the fight, even though the tall demon picked it up really fast and maybe even on purpose.

  
„Mhm…“, Michael humms unimpressed, turning his attention back to the papersheet, „…People are always fighting. I think the two of them are no exception.“.

  
„But…it was my fault.“, the innocent voice insists ashamedly.

  
„What did you do??“

  
And now Michael is all ears. He's not happy about the two immortals fighting, neither is he happy with small Jason being the caurse, but it's nice to not be the one to blame for once. The blue eyes lower and sheepishly Jason convesses: „I went up to the roof, looking for the other Michael and when the other Jason found out they began arguing about if I should be up there or not.“, sighting deeply at the end. Usually he's a well behaved boy who rarely gets into trouble, so he's not used to be the reason for a fight and he feels unbelievable guilty.

  
„Aah, I already thought you did something bad...“, the little demon mumbles a tiny bit disappointed, „…When I first arrived here, the psychopath of my adult self wanted to kill me immediately. Jason tried to change his mind and they also fought. Soooo, I think you're doing pretty well though.“.

  
The tall men wanted to kill his friend? Tilting his head, Jason isn't able to believe it is true. Maybe big Michael only has been very angry and the small one misunderstood? Imagine the demon raging from anger really is something that can be distracting and make people missunderstand things. His friend must be just mistaking.   
Jason has noticed big Michael treats his friend roughter than him and the tall mens patience is very limited dealing with the brown haired boy, but killing him? Nothing he would think of Michael. Up on the roof earlier, the devil seemed stern and a little distant, but Jason never felt threatened by him. Well, he did when he first saw the pale masked face appearing in front of his underground shelter, not knowing who the suspicious and horrorfying figure was or what he wanted, but after spending a few days with the large guy, his fear had disappeared entirely. In truth, he enjoyes Michaels company. He's mostly silent and calm, either reading books or spending his time outside. On contrary the little one often gets noisy, has much of unused energy and isn't able to sit still for much more than a few minutes. Thinking about it, Jason has some trouble with imagine them as the same person only in different ages. Something critical must've happened to change Michael so drasticly.

  
Caught up in his thoughts with little Michael way too intensly scratching his pencil over the papersheet, he's just about to voice his doubts about the killing thing, when loud rumble rushes down the stairs. Their both heads snap up, watching the tall demon dash down the stairs and out of the front door in confusion. Giving little Michael a questioning look, the boy only weakly shruggs his shoulders in response, obviously not wondering about it. Shortly after, the other Jason slowly climps down the stairs. Silently he wents to the wide open front door, leaning both arms against the frame on each side while and exhaling a concerned sight, appearing as confused as they are.

  
„Is he freaking out again?“, little Michaels voice asks flatly, not shifting his gaze up from his sheet.

  
\------------------

  
The sun already sets when Michaels mind comes back to the hear and now. Looking around, seeing only trees and thick vegetation surrounding him, he must've walked deep into the woods while his mind went blank. Breathing heavily and beeing covered in sweat, it wouldn't surprise him if he had been running the whole time. Last time he experienced a black out like this he had woken up strapped down onto his bed at the sanatorium. When Dr. Loomis appeared he had told him he had grabbed him, hit and pinned him against a wall of his office during the last of their sessions. Michael couldn't remember it, but it definitely sounded like something he would do without any concerns. Though he couldn't remember what triggered him to snap, but perhaps he doesn't even wanted to know. Certainly it had been some stupid shit the doc asked to lure something out of him. Sometimes only one word, a smell or little reminder is enough to make him snap so intensly, that his brain shuts out everything to protect itself.

  
Leaning his back against a tree and sliding down to the ground, the demon tries to catch his breath. Christ, this black out surely was one of the longest he ever had. Panting, he remembers the reason for this episodes well and it immediately sends cold shivers down his spine, letting his whole body tense violently. It's the one special memory he fortunately was able to hide from Jason. If just someone could ram a nail into his brain and make him forget it forever! But it isn't that easy, it had never been that easy and he would have to deal with it into eternity.

  
Crouching there with his hands clenched into his own arms up tight and his nails digging into his skin though of the overall, Jason comes back into his mind. How worried he was, how he tried to help him, how fucking gentle and fondly he treated him when he actually deserves the exact opposite! It's almost unbearable to remember it and squeezing his eyes shut, Michael tries to stop the forming tears from running down. What‘s wrong with Jason that he really seems to love him? The hell is wrong inside that deformed head, that he really thinks it could work out with the demon?! Is he really such a great masochist??!

  
Sighting deeply and leaning his head back against the trunk, Michael gets aware of what's wrong. It's his fault, it just has to. He was the one who started to sneak close to Jason. He was the one who used his sneakyness to make the big guy longe for him. He had messed it up as he always does. Just becaurse he wasn't able to control his dirty and forbidden needs! Just becaurse he wanted to feel something else than emptyness. „I'm such a brat…“, he mumbles bitterly to himself, pushing his hands in front of his face in shame. Being close to Jason always had felt so good, it always had made him feel a little less low and now? Now he had overdone it with Jason hoping for something more and him who will never be able to be what the big guy's looking for. The dark thoughts rushing through his messed up mind are too much and starting to sob quietly, he sinks down even more to the ground. Curling up and hiding his face, he wishes he never had appeared at the camp. If he hadn't, everything would be still ok. Jason would've never met him, he would've been as innocent as he was before. Not aware of anything the demon showed him, still only guarding the camp and beeing satisfied with it. And he would be locked up at the sanatorium, where he belonged to, slowly turning entirely insane as he deserves it.

  
Michael realizes this time, he had fucked it up bad. The hell should he do now? Leaving the camp isn't an option, god he even isn't able to kill himself to disappear now and forever. Whiping away the tears underneath the mask, he desperately thinks about a solution. Anything to make it all up again. Usually he wouldn't give a rats ass about anyones feelings or if he exploits someone ore not, but with Jason…With Jason everything is different. More complicated, it goes deeper and for the first time in his life, he feels responsible. „ _You really are scum._ “, it whispers inside his sick head.

  
Backing away from the tree and out of his crouched down position, he suddenly senses the familar cold and liquid energy coming his way. It's already close, but he had been too wrapped up in his thoughts to sense it earlier. Looking around rapidly, the widened eyes are searching for a place to hide, though he knows Jason is also able to sense him, no matter where he may goes. His chest tightens and it gets difficult to breath, a thick knot forming in his throat. The strong claws of a panic attack are toring into him and while he halfheartly hides behind another tree, he fears this time he actually could suffer a stroke. His heart is pounding so hard inside his chest, it's drumming inside his ears and though his body is heating up extemely, cold sweat covers him. Hypervantilating with his vision getting blurry, his head getting dizzy and his hands aching and stiffening, there's nothing he wishes more for than getting swallowed by the damp ground.

  
„Michael?“, the deep voice makes him twitch, even when it sounds more than gentle. Quickly glimpsing to his right, he gives a quiet, trembling grunt in response. No matter in what mood the big guy might be, it's way too embarrassing to look him in the eyes right now. So, when the broad frame crouches down right next to him, the black eyes keep on staring ahead into nothing. The undergrowth is crackling under Jasons weight and when he finally settles down to his satisfication, Michaels jaw is pressed together so tight, he swears he can hear his teeth crackling just as the undergrowth did. His whole face is burning and prickeling joined by a nice stinging sensation at the back of his head. By everything unholy, how comes it that Jason is able to make him react so intensly?! The demon almost jumps when a cold hand lays down on his shoulder. „Are you ok?“, the deep voice asks him worriedly, echoing in his ears where his heartbeat is still performing a fucking drum solo.

  
„I'm fine. Nothing to worry about.“, he answers clipped, not able to hide the shaking in his voice.

  
„But I do. Took me at least three hours to make you out so far into the woods.“

  
„Gosh, I'm a grown men…what the fuck should happen to me out here? Getting attacked by squirrels or bunnies?!“, the demons snappy side surfaces for a second, looking at Jason with his patented _fuck off_ -glare.

  
„I know you are, you're totally lethal. Sorry…“, Jason sights, ducking his head to break the deadly glare, „…I'm sorry for pushing you earlier too. I know you're not comfortable with sharing your thoughts and I shouldn't have been so intrusive.“.

  
Seeing the blue eyes lowering and hearing the softly mumbled apology lets a heavy feeling of guilt rise up in Michael. The big hand on his shoulder squeezes slightly and the thumb is strocking him reassuringly. He doesn't deservs this! It's his fault the big guy feels bad now. There really is nothing he can do right! Jason, though he's over protective like a mother hen, just means good and that's barely something he could blame his big buddy for. Sighting and running a hand through his damp hair, he answers almost unaudibal: „It's my fault. I guess I'm just too fucked up.“. _And just too dump and worthless_., he adds in his thoughts.

  
„You're just a little damaged, not totally fucked up.“, Jason says with his soft smile audibal in his voice. It sounds stupid, but it's true and damaged things can get repaired! Surely this also counts for damaged souls, he just has to figure out how he can fix it.

  
„You truly believe this, huh?...“, Michael sights knowing exactly that he's more, much more than just a little damaged, „…I really wonder what's so fatally wrong with you, that you actually fell in love with someone terrible like me.“. Though his sarcastic tone, Michael really wonders about it. Jason is the exact opposite of him. It is as if you would throw a lion and a lamp into a relationship. The lamp may wants to cuddle into the soft mane of the lion, naiv as it is and possibly the lion would accept it for a short time, but in the end the lamp gets eaten and the lion is just happy about such an easy prey.

  
„Caurse you're the most amazing being I've ever met.“, the big guys voice makes Michael shiver. „Since you're here, I feel completed, even though I'm not sure if that makes any sense. You're special, like me and I think that was the first reason to get interested in you, but…“, while talking Jason nervously fumbles with the buttons of his jacket, giving his best to use words wich make at least a little sense, „…when I got to know you better, there appeared much more what draws me in to you than just being alike. I've never met someone so energetic before or so quick-witted and confident. You're strong and even when you're raging or are offended, you're still the most tempting person I can think of. I like the way you keep my mind busy, becaurse of your jumpy character. My slow brain always has to work one hundred percent to comprehend everything you do. I think that's a good thing, caurse I know very well I'm not the smartest guy under the sun. Even when you get sneaky on me. I know you're doing it to get what you want, but most times what you want is the same what I want, though often I doesn't know I want it in the first place.“

  
Michael listens to the monologe closely. His eyes narrowed and he asks himself, if he's possibly dreaming. Someone telling him what's good about him? It has to be a dream. Certainly he passed out during the panic attack and now his mind is making up impossible things. Or maybe he really got attacked by squirrels and bunnies and after knocking him out, they're busy with abducting him into some secrete tunnel system underneath the camp. Still more likely than someone talking positively about him.  
Noticing the unbelieving gaze his devil shoots him, Jason continues, fearing he perhaps talked completely nonsens, though in his head it had sounded reasonable: „I-I mean you're wonderful, you know. You make me feel as if everything is finally right and I have to worry about nothing, never again…“, feeling his heart speed up and his cheeks start to burn, Jasons farther words are a little breathy and shy, „…Also you're really beautiful and desireable…You…You showed me so many new things, I would've never dared to do with someone else. Being with you just feels so good and right…I hope that makes any sense to you…“.

  
When the shy blue eyes are slowly taking up contact again, Michael is very gratefull to wear his mask. His mouth's hanging open and he felt his eyebrows rise higher and higher the more Jason talked. It's not that his surprised mind has much time to worry about it, but certainly he looks stupid as shit right now. No wonder it takes him quiet a while to come around enough again, to response to the bigger slashers speech. „You-You really are serious about that, aren't you?“. Jason nods, but to make it clear the demon asks again, hectically gesturing between them: „ _You_ really think of _Me_ that way? Even when I'll never be able to proppertely reply to your feelings? You remember me telling you about that little detail, right?“. Again a nod, this time a little firmer. „You told me so and I don't expect anything. I know it's not your fault and though you're denying to feel much, I know there's more. Everything what's even in the slightest related to love is enough for me. Even it's only sympathy or something. It's enough.“

  
Obviously today is _Make Michael look like an absolute jerk_ -day. He's still staring at Jason in disbelieve, feeling more insecure than he did in a very long while. The big guys hand is still gently placed on his shoulder and still he's absently but reassuringly strocking the tense muscle. The demon doesn't knows what to do or how to react. „You’re such an idiot.“, Michael eventually sights after giving up on figuring out what the heck is going on. Exhausted by his roller coaster ride of emotions he had to ride the last few hours, his head sags against the big guys chest. „But I'm your idiot…“, Jason says sounding way too serious and caursing an unamused snarl to burst out of Michael, „…and you're my devil. The most evil and precious I can think of.“. Strong arms wrap around his back and Michael really appreciates the lifing deads closeness this time. Feeling tired and drenched, he nuzzles into the cool embrace. It just feels so relieving how Jasons coldness seems to absorb the heat out of his worn body and after hearing him say all these things, he most of all wants to break out in tears again. He feels so tired and exhausted, but being close to his big buddy the same time makes him relaxe and forget about his doubts. Even if it's just for a short while…

 


	17. A farberge egg on toothpicks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning**
> 
> This chapter contains descriptions of child abuse. If you're unstable and/or won't read about it, skip this chapter.

„ _Speaking of the things I've shown you…there's something I've never done before…You know the difference between sex and making love?“_

  
_„Umm…I'm not quiet sure if I do…“_

  
_„Thought so. Well…we have to try out then, right?“_

  
The demons purred words are still echoing in his ears, but thinking about the difference isn't his primal concern right now. Feeling his head clouding by his growing arousal, he presses the still slightly trembling body tightly against his. All he wants is to protect Michael, to make him happy and let his sadness and pain vanish. Absently humming into their kiss, _when Michael currently needs this kind of closeness, so be it_ , he thinks. He won't complain! „I love you.“, his deep voice mumbles absently, when the demon pulls back and breaks the kiss. Michaels silent answer is pushing even closer to Jason while hiding his half masked face into the crook of the bigger slashers neck. The demon is gentlier as usual and instead of tearing his teeth into the soft, cold flesh a line of light kisses is planted on Jasons neck up to his ear. „Thank you…“, Michael breathes, caursing goosebumps to break out on the rotting skin. He means it, it's an inaccurate answer when getting told something like this, but though he means it. When he first approached Jason closer than just on a friendship-like base, it had been just about having fun and testing how far the lifing dead would go. It had been the same dull amd low reason as always, but meanwhile it's about much more. That's why he had mentioned the difference between sleeping with each other and loving each other.

  
Arching his back when the cold hands squeeze his ass and pressing his stiffening member against the big guys, Michael doubts he's able to make a difference, but Jason is. And perhaps, just perhaps he'll be able to copy it. During the last half of a year, being intimate with his big boy everything about fucking got more and more different than what he remembers from his past. He needs him more, longes more for him and even come to enjoy only sharing tender touches and cerassing without going any farther. Something what always had been revolting to him, no matter who it had been he allowed close to him in the past. No, it always had went the same way: Hooking up, satisfying his needs, goodbye. Now, the difference certainly isn't the least becaurse of their connected energies, no, it most likely is the biggest part wich brought him to feel different, but there's something else.

  
And the devil knows what that special something is. It's tiny, crippled, broken and though it feels extreme to him, Jason certainly wouldn't be able to even sense it. It's just too less and weak, but he can feel it clearly and maybe that tiny bit of twisted and underdeveloped love is enough to give Jason at least a sufficient copy. His big buddy deserves it for treating him so fondly when he actually should be treated like the low scum he is.   
A cold thumb brushes over his lips, pulling him out of his thoughts again. The small bit of worry fades fast out of the blue eyes, when a soft smile plays along the demons lips. „You’re beautiful.“, the deep voice rumbles smoothly.

„ _You're not!_ “, the voice in the back of his mind yells immediately, but he won't listen to it now. Not now, his selfhatred can devour him afterwards, now he'll be selfish and enjoy Jasons closeness as much as he can. „You're too…“, leaning in his hands cup the deformed face and he presses his forhead to the bumpy one, „…Don't let anybody tell you else.“.

  
Jason, though the devils words are gentle and full of adoreation, can't supress a small frown. Something's wrong with Michael and it almost drives him crazy that he can't point a finger on the exact problem. The demon literally craves for contact as close as possible and though Michael usually is really physical as well, there's something different. The last few days, he had tensed and flinched away by every small touch of the bigger slasher. Even during the nights he had avoided embraces or to curl up at Jasons side as he usually does. In the middle of the last two nights, he had left the bed eventually and wandered around the cabin. Jason had noticed, wakening up out of his slumber, but he had renounced to ask about it, not wanting to be too intrusive again. The lack of nightsleep certainly is the reason why Michael slept in the shelter on the roof till into the late noon the past two days.

  
Something's up and it's no trivial matter, that's for sure! Sighting deeply with his eyes flattering shut and his head resting back against the tree trunk he's leaning at, Jason enjoys the tender caress of the demons warm hands roaming his cold upper body. Michael's quiet able to be very gentle, but today it almost seemes as if he's afraid to hurt Jason. His touches are more cautious, more calculated and that means something, caurse commonly the demon calculates every action he takes to it's tiniest details. „Michael…?“, Jason mumbles. From one bigger wound torn into his lower stomach a vibrating humm rises up in rensponse. „We…we don't have to do this if you're not feeling well…“. And it's unbelieveable hard to make that offer, while the devils lips softly nudge the edges of the wound. It sends tingling shivers through the big guys whole body and he truly wonders where the demons affection for the wounds is coming from. Normally everybody would be disgusted as hell, but Michael seems to highly adore all of them. There's really nothing _normal_ about the maniac. However it may be and how nice it may feel, Jasons worries gain the upperhand.

  
Frowning, the black eyes are giving Jason a slightly confused glare and irritatedly Michael snarls: „The hell are you talking about?“. Tensing, Jason most of all wants to slap himself in the face, hearing the pissed tone of the devils voice. He knows when Michael wants something, he does almost anything to get it and for sure won't stop just becaurse of his worries.  
„I'm fine! And also…“, sliding one slender hand down to cup Jasons crotch and squeezing teasingly, „…there's something telling me you don't want me to stop.“.

  
The deep moan and the slight twitching under his palm is enough of an answer for the devil. But he has to be more cautious now. Jason shouldn't notice his nerves are strained up tight, ready to snap just any second. If he wants to get an example of how loveing each other works, Jason has to remain clueless. „Just give in to your instincts, ok? There's nothing to worry about…“

  
\-----------------

  
The kids were playing a weird game called „ _The floor is lava_ “ when the both immortals had returned to the cabin. Leaving them alone had left Jason worried, but obviously, when not pushed, little Michael is able to behave quiet well. When they'd opened up the front door, the little devil was right in the middle of a jump from the rail of the staircase to one of the couches. Screeching deafening as he was flying through the air like a monkey jumping from brench to brench. Landing, the small body clinged to the couches back, pulling over the edge with all it's strenght as if in danger to fall into an abyss. The stunt had caursed an amazed cheer from little Jason who had been jumping up and down on the armchair in the corner of the room in high joy and given applause. When big Jason had asked what the actual heck they were doing, the collectively cheered answer had been „The ground's lava!“ leaving him slightly puzzled, not getting how the floor could be lava. It looked just fine.

  
„You two are burning!“, little Michael had shouted, panting while continuing his jump and run using every available furniture, followed by little Jason who had been a little bit more carefull. The child had some light issues with his motorics, but it seemed to get better since the small demon provoked him to move around more. Shooting his devil a questioning gaze, Jason had asked himself if he possibly missed something important…But after Michael had explained the game to him, a little bit annoyed about the fact he hadn't known about it, Jason understood the principle and how the floor suddenly had become lava.  
While listening to the explaination and keeping one eye on the small ones, Jason had thought about two possible szenarios to come. One: The demons short temper breaks lose, extremely annoyed by the dashing around children and he would have to stop the demon from snapping entirely or two: Michael gets extremely annoyed, but instead of snapping, he withdraws up on the roof or to their bedroom and hides for the rest of the evening. Jason had hoped for the second option. Though Michael had been surprisingly light headed after their little tryst in the woods, he had doubted the good mood could stand against this immens trigger. The demons actual reaction had been something, Jason hadn't even dared to think of. If this had been the million dollar question, he would've failed poorly.

  
There had been no annoyance, no yelling, no raging, no snapping, even no grumbling, not the slightest! Instead, without farther words, the demon had jumped into action, trying to catch the kids while they danced over the furnishings. Who, really **WHO**! In all worlds would've thought about that??! Still standing at the front door with his eyes widened in disbelief, Jason had watched the scene for long moments. To say he had been stunned would've been the understatement of the year and he wasn't able to remember when he had been so fuddled before. Possibly never!

  
Through the high pitched screetching of little Michael and it's adult selfes faked growling, he had heared little Jason shout at him that he better should step up from the ground to save himself from burning to ahses. Hesitantely he had walked over to the small table in front of the sofas, sitting down crossed legged with much cautiousness, while hoping it won't crash under his weight. It creeked suspiciously and he better shouldn't move rapidly. Anyways, he had felt so smashed, that moving fast hadn't been an available option. First Michael had been fallen deep down into the darkness of his abused soul, then fucking him had dragged him back up into the light, he had been unusual playfull during their walk back to the cabin, then instead of blowing one he had decided to join the game of the young ones and last but not least additionally the floor was lava!

  
For a while Jason had been caught up in his confused thoughts, blending out the hurry surrounding him. Until his little self had almost bumped into him and his hands instinctively had catched the small body from stumbling over the edge of the tabletop. Paying attention obviously had been enough to also get dragged into the game and after explaining to the kids that he most likely would crash all furniture if he would try to also climb over them, he ended up assisting as a lifing catapult. Everytime one of the kids jumped onto the table he had grabbed them and thrown them over to one of the couches. Of course using only a little of his strenghts, otherwise they would've at least flown out of the terass door or smashed into a wooden wall.

  
His demon really had managed to snatch little Jason right out of the air after a few _flights_ and carrying the wiggling and in joy squeeking boy across the room, he had placed him up on the top of a shelf. For a second the big guy had been afraid his mini me could be scared, but the bright giggling and laughing fastly shooed away his worries. It had been delightening to see the boy having so much fun. Remembering his childhood, it had often been lonely and he had desperately wished for a playmate to give him company. Now, befriended with the small demon, the disadvantaged boy literally bloomed. Watching him during the game, Jason couldn't remember a situation from his past, he had been so calm and full of joy. No matter why their younger selfes were there, it comforted both of them to finally have a friend. It actually had melted the lifing deads heart and every now and then it had been difficult to hold back the tears building up in his eyes. He's too sensitive, he knows, but the situation had been just too moving, so screw it!

  
The game ended with little Michael panting so hard that his words had been ununderstandable while he collapsed against the upper body of his bigger self. And even then, being so close to the kid, Michael had stayed calm. No flinching away, no twitching, no lashing out, he just patted the small back, panting as well. After rescuing little Jason from the shelf and making dinner for the small ones, though there hadn't been more than tin cans, but to his defense, Jason hadn't been prepared for visitors, the two had fell asleep fast. When the floor turns into lava, it seemingly is very exhausting.

  
Now, the bigger slasher is laying next to his devil, watching his restless sleep while curled up into a fetal position. Jason isn't able to catch any sleep. Maybe it's becaurse he's still pushed up from the game, but it's more likely becaurse of Michaels behavior. Fondly, he brushes a streak of the brown hair out of the masked face. Heading to the bedroom, the devils mood had remained light and playful and they had joked about the weirdness of the situation. On some point Michael had told him, it was very brave to leave the little psychopath all alone at the cabin with little Jason. „As good as he could've set the whole cabin on fire.“, he had said, the evil grin audibal and he had been deadly serious about it. Actually, though he had been high-spirited and slightly overwrought while they walked back, he had expected exactly something like this. Fire, devastation, destruction, whatever, but certainly nothing good. The bigger had been his relieve, when they had found the children playing a stupid game instead of producing chaos and misery.

  
Sighting and resting his head into his palm, Jason asks himself what he possibly could do to help his beloved demon with his exteme mood swings. One moment he's near to break out in tears or kill somebody, the other he's happy and gleeful, in between nothing is impossible. Jason isn't experienced with psychological problems, but such mood swings can't be normal or healthy. The demons eyes are moving rapidly from side to side under the closed lids and his brows are knitted. Seemingly his dreams are unpleasant and running a hand through the soft hair, Jason notices it's getting damp from sweat. Christ, if he would just know what's going on inside this twisted and muddled head, maybe he could milder the demons suffering. Only hell knows what he's dreaming, but clenching his hands into the sheets and stiffening hard, it has to be something terrorizing. Admittedly, Jason may isn't the smartest, but he knows there are ways to improve mentally problems. If he only would know the ways and wich are needed for Michaels issues.

  
„It's ok, I'm here.“, he whispers softly, strocking the demons clenched hand soothingly when he starts to whimper quietly. Reassuring the devil is all Jason can do at the moment, even if his helplessness drives him insane. Michael certainly can't hear him, but maybe he feels him like he did when he had this terrible nightmare months ago. Suddenly an idea strucks through Jasons brain. He had been able to take a short look into Michaels memories through their spiritual connection, perhaps he's also able to catch a glimpse of his dreams if he gives enough effort into concentrating. Could work out, right?

  
Michael twitches next to him, curling up even tighter as if protecting himself from a beating. He's gritting his teeth and the whimpers and moans are increasing in volume as well as in desperation. Right now he looks so small and vulnetable, it's barely bearable. Jason can't help, but to frown deeply. It hurts to see the devil suffer, no matter his difficult character and sometimes hurtfull behavior.  
The heat touching his cold skin is burning as if he holds his hand into raw flames. Hesitantely sliding his hand into the overall and down to Michaels bare back, pulling the cramped body in closer, it feels like cuddling with an oven. But if he wants to take a look into the devils dreaming mind, he has to be close to him. When he carefully pulls his demon closer to his body, Michael eases up a little. Obviously sensing Jasons closeness, he sights deeply and nuzzles his face to the broad chest. Damn, the demon being all vulnerable and searching shelter in his arms, really provokes Jasons protective instincts. Most of all he just wants to wake the demon up and yell at him that he loves him, but that certainly would confuse Michael more than it would help. It's like an constant itch and Jason just has to do something, to help Michael! No matter the consequences. Blending out all doubts and trying to concentrate on their bond, his eyes slowly fall shut. Michaels breathing is fastened and deep and while listening to the rapid rythm, Jason gets lured in by the glowing energy of the sleeping killer. When it wrappes around him completely it temporarely feels like getting burned alive, before the feeling of the flickering flames biting into him is gone and a sudden, cold chill washes over him.

  
Gosh, it's so cold and he's scared to the bones. Nothing happened yet and Jason doesn't knows where his fear is coming from, but it's intense and enough to let his body stiffen and tremble. Glimpsing around his vision is blurry and he can only make out silhouettes, but inhaling the moldy and damp air, he's pretty sure he's at a basement. When his broad frame tries to move, everything feels so strange. He's there, but the same time he's not and no matter how hard he tries, moving is only able offendingly slow. Behind his thorax his heart is pumping so fast, that Jason is literally able to feel the cold blood rush through his vaines. The more his mind comes around, the uneasier he feels. It's like having a premonition and it feels as if things will get very bad.

  
A loud bang lets his head snatch to the left and in the dim light, he discerns a small staircase. Yap, he's definitely at a basement and it makes him even more uncomfortable. As a kid, he was so afraid of the basement, when his mother once tried to drag him down there, pretending there was nothing to be afraid of, he got caught up in violent hysteria and even fainted. Basements, who the fuck came up with that idea??!

  
Rumbling stomps, deep ruspy yelling and high pitched screams are ripping him out of his memories, catching his full attention while coming down the stairs. The blue eyes stay fixed to the stairecase, while he breathes fast and his heart takes up an even quicker pace. Paralyzing fear grabs him firmly, squeezing his throat shut and the knot pulls even tighter around his neck, when he sees who's coming down into the half lighted room.  
„Please don't! I'll do it never again!“, the paniced voice of the brown haired boy begs, fidgeting in the firm grip of a men, Jason can't regocnize. A hard backhand meets the boys cheek, sending him violently to the ground. The smack is echoing through the empty air and the muffled cry the boy exhales shakes Jasons very core. Besides the twitching of his muscles and fastly growing anger, Jason somehow is able to feel the impact as well and while his cheek stings, hot tears are forming in the corner of his eyes just as in the black ones. Michael sobs quietly when he slowly gets up onto his feet again, rubbing his reddened cheek.

  
„Stop crying you little sissy!“, the rusty voice yells. Through both their bodys, Michaels and Jasons shots a jolt of pure terror, but in contrary to Jason who's watching the scene with horror, clearly shown on his face, Michaels face gets covered in a furious frown. His black eyes twinkle with anger under the strongly knitted brows and his upper lip twitches, slightly baring his small teeth. The men takes a quick step forward and grabbing the boy roughtly by the shoulder long hair, he growls: „You're shooting me such a gaze?!!“.

  
Hectically, Jason tries to move, to get between little Michael and his attacker, but no matter how desperate he tries, he can't move towards them. While their moving normal, he seems to be trapped in some strange kind of a time anomaly, all his movements slowed down to an almost unbearable pace. He flinches and roars when the boy gets thrown into a corner, hitting the back of his head hard to the brickwall and landing onto an old matress laying on the floor. Obviously they can't hear the slashers protest, not minding him at all. Trying again, Jason uses all his strenghts to make a step towards them, but nope. He remains glued to the other side of the basement if he wants it or not.

  
Fortunately little Michael hasn't lost his conciousness. His small hands are pressing down where his head met the wall and painloaded whimpers escape him. It seemes to make the men even angrier and while he kneels down and grabs the boy by his slender neck he spats detestly: „You're such a pathetic pice of shit! Just like your mother!“.  
Another slap lands on the already swollen cheek, echoing through the empty air as well. „Always caursing trouble, but can't stand the consequences.“, he spits again, pressing the little body down by the neck and hovering over him. Suddenly the air is filled with the thick scent of alcohol and it makes Jasons stomach perform a strong twist. He again feels the burning sensation radiating from his cheek and as well as Michael, he gets problems with inhaling enough oxygen. „Please don't…“, the boy caughts, the anger vanished from his wide eyes and got replaced with pure fear.

  
„You're acting like a pussy, I'll treat you like a pussy…“, a shiver runs down Jasons spine while the boys gaze gets more and more frightened with every growled word, „…Your mother always behaves after I teached her a lesson. Let's see if you’ve got at least the same sense for knowing what's good for you or if you're completely useless…“.

  
And what comes next caurses a mixture of feelings inside Jason, he never had felt before. It goes from disgust and nausea, over rage, over pity, over despair, to pain and the strongest fear he ever felt. Not able to move and help the little one, he has to watch everything what's happening, experiencing the same matyrium as the boy does. The metallic clicking of an opening up belt sounds up and joined by heartbreaking whines a zipper gets opened fastly. _Fuck, no! He can't do that! Take your fucking hands off of him!_ , Jason yells inside his mind. A rought hand literally rips down the pants from the fidgeting and kicking legs, while the other still squeezes the slender neck. „Pl-please…“, Michael begs muffled, gaining a third hit to his face. This time the force splits the boys lower lip and a silent cry escapes his throat. Jasons mouth filles with a coppery taste, while his lip throbbs painfully. Pressing his tights together, the fidgeting and wiggling vanishes from Michael, turning into fear indicated stiffness. Tears start to run down the terrorized face and also Jason begins to cry, feeling the same fear and the incredible strong helplessness.

  
The boys mostly cut off breathing hitches when his tights get pushed apart rudely. His small hands are clenched around the strong hand on his neck and feeling the bigger body getting into position above him, he gives a last panicly attempt to break free. Crying and whining the small body wiggles and twitches using all his strength, but it's useless. There's no chance to get out of his fathers strong hold and hearing the low voice whisper into his ear, he freezes immediately: „It'll hurt much more if you keep on fighting.“.

A rush of burning pain shakes their bodies and crying out silent, Jason hears the blood freezing scream Michael exhales. He never heared someone scream like that and while he isn't able to pull his gaze away, his heart breaks into thousand pieces. He wants to blink, wants to squeeze his eyes shut, wants to press his hands in front of his face, but he can't. The weight of the men holds him down as well as Michael and he feels the rought thrusts. Their whole bodys get flooded by the burning pain and with every movement of the mens hips, it gets worse. Hearing the grunts and moans mixed with little whimpers and small cries, Jason is close to puke. _It can't be happening!_ , he thinks overwhelmed by the situation.

  
After a while, the boys crying dies down. His breathing slows down too and letting his head weakly fall to the side, facing Jason, the dark eyes are displaying nothing but emptyness. They lock to the tears filled blue ones, but there's nothing of Michael left. He's gone, his body limp, his former tightly clenched hands fall down to his sides and Jason desperately wishes the kid would've lost his consciousness crashing into the wall earlier. Something cold and heavy creeps into his dead body. It's circling through his system and he starts to feel numb. Dark shadows slide closer until they surround him completely. They're reaching out, brushing over his skin and it feels like the last spark of life gets sucked out of him. He already knows the feeling well, it's the cold and empty sensation of death and not only he is getting devored by it. Michael is too, but not the boys body is diying. It's his soul getting invaded by thick and deadly darkness with every mercilessly thrust.

 

Snapping awake, Jason immediately tightens his embrace around the sleeping devil. „I'm so sorry.“, he sobs, still wrapped up in this unbelievable coldness and darkness. He can't help it, but he has to press Michael as close to himself as possible. Otherwise he fears the demon could slip away from him, the images of the nightmare vividly repeating inside his mind. Michael sights, moving weakly in the tight embrace. „What's wrong?“, he asks sleepily, trying to tip his head up, but Jasons hold doesn't allows him too. The sudden question makes the big guy jump and he doesn't wants Michael to see that he's still crying. He hasn't intended to wake his demon. „Everything's fine. Go back to sleep, it's the middle of the night.“, the bigger killer mumbles reassuringly, but the slight touch of worry and sadness underlining his voice doesn't stays unnoticed by Michael.

  
Nudging his big buddys chest with his chin while nuzzling his face to the broad body again, he notices the film of sweat covering him. A nightmare again, but at least he hasn't waked up crying silently or shooting up as if stinged into his ass. When his arm lazily slides around Jasons wide middle, he feels the same film covering the big guy, though it's a cold wetness. _Seems I'm not the only one dreaming shit_ , he thinks tiredly. Maybe that's why the deep voice sounds slightly worried and sad. „I love you.“, it whispers shakily when the rotten lips are pressing a tender kiss into his hair. „I know…“, the demon mutters, already almost back into a deep sleep, „…love you too…“. And while Jason tenses in surprise and his heart skippes at least two beats, Michael hasn't even noticed what he had just said. The heavy weight of his sleep dragged him down into a new dream before he could've been able to actually care about his words.

  
\----------------

  
The next morning came and Jason had been happy as never before to see the first sunrays fall into the room. After stepping into the devils nightmare he had been wide awake all night. Everytime he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, the terrible images popped up in his head again. He felt sick to his stomache and no matter how hard he tried to blend it out, he still was able to feel everything the kid had felt. No wonder Michael wasn't able to catch much sleep at night, who could dreaming about events like this?! But fortunately this night, the devil had slept, though his vivid dreams. He had startled a few times, but running his cold fingers through the soft hair and reassuringly cerassing the small of Michaels back had send him back to sleep fast. During the sleepless night, Jason had asked himself how it was even possible that Michael hadn't turned into a shadow of himself. He certainly would've! Watching the demon sleep next to him at least a light relive had washed over him, when he remembered Michael had killed that bastard. God, and he hoped the fucker had suffered greatly. If he would've been the one to kill him, he would've taken his time and making him suffer a hundred times more than the innocent boy he broke so cruely.

  
Besides the horrible experience, the demons mumbled words before he had fallen back to sleep, were circling through Jasons head the whole damn night. He even thought he perhaps had misunderstood Michael, but repeating it over and over again there were no doubts left. Michael had said he loves him. He had. It had made Jasons freaked out state complete and additionally to the nightmare made his head spin with even more questions and worries. Trying to reassure himself, he thought maybe it was just becaurse the demon had been half asleep. Perhaps even already dreaming again and his words were meant for someone else. Not that Jason wouldn't longe to hear Michael say he loves him, but it came so sudden and connected with the nightmare it just had been too much for one night!

  
The demon just got up when Jason was about to head out to his first guard round. And the big guy had been glad about it! His new knowledge from the night had still been way too lively that he wouldn't havr been able to talk to Michael without breaking down. Even looking at him got difficult and now, walking through the forest and caught up in his thoughts, he has the same problem with little Michael. Of course he had taken the kids with him. The demon may had been in a good mood last night, but a) His mood is as stable as a farberge egg on toothpicks, b) Jason doubts that Michael could keep his temper down if seriously triggert and all alone with the kids and c) If the demon remembers what he had said last night, hell knows how his reaction would turn out. So, he took the children with him and while he is sunken in his thoughts, they're running around, using the forest as a trail.

  
Watching the brown haired boy, he wonders if it has already happened to him. Minding his still innocent soul, well as innocent as a devils soul can be, it most likely hasn't. Frowning, a tight and cold knot forms in Jasons chest. It's unbelievable how cruel humans can be. And still, look a little rotten, wear a mask an defend your property and you get called a monster! It's outright rediculous and he can't supress the burning anger rising up again, furious about this illogical hypocrisy. Yes, he killed numerous people, yes sometimes he had been cruel, yes it even is entertaining him, but this? Destroying the innocent soul of your own flesh and blood? Before he had seen it, he hadn't even thought about it. Never, not even in his wildest and worst dreams would've he guessed something like this and despite his horror, disgust and shock, he's furious, but he has to lock it up deep inside.

What brings him to another problem…What if Michael finds out he had spyed into his mind without his approval?? He had meant just good and it had never been his intention to sneak into the devils head, but neverthless Michael certainly would snap and perhaps even jump him if he finds out. It had been a great break of trust, Jason knows and he feels more than guilty about it, but what should've he done else? Trying to bring the demon to tell him what's going on in his maze-like mind? Pha! Good joke, that's an incredible thing, he knows as well. So, actually he had no other choice than exploit Michaels sleep and take a look for himself. Even if he wishes now, he hadn't wittnessed such a bestiality and wouldn't get haunted by his knowledge now. The empty gaze of the big, dark eyes just won't leave his head and also the sensation of the abuse he had felt as well is still radiating through his body. It's a miracle that Michael is still so physically and honestly, Jason can't understand it. Thinking about it, it would be logical when Michael won't allow anyone to touch him. Instead he's open for close contact and, well very _hungry_  for it…Something Jason doesn't gets no matter how hard he broods about it.

  
But, as fucked up it all is, there's one good thing. He can't convess his knowledge, but he can try to help Michael behind his back, now that he knows what's wrong. Maybe he'll be able to ease the devils pain at least a little bit. He can't make him forget, he can't make the past undone, but he can and will try his damn best to make his love suffer less and maybe even help him to learn how to live with it. It's the least he can do and though having such feelings for someone is still new for him, Jason knows loving someone also means to share the bad as well as the good.

  
\-------------------

  
Meanwhile at the cabin, Michael eliminates the chaos they'd turned the living area into last night. He doesn't knows what's gotten into him, but the urge to let his playfull side from the leash suddenly had been overwhelming. Maybe becaurse his head had still been light and the high of his orgasm earlier that evening still hadn't faded completely. Jason had shown him damn clearly how much he loves him and besides giving him a very usefull example, he had managed to shut up the nasty voice inside his brain for the rest of the night. It had been a huge relieve to be close to Jason again without having to listen to that fucking voice. Being able to sleep almost without interruptions also was a big plus! He had dreamed shit and Jason had woken him once, well he thinks the big guy has, but perhaps he had dreamed that too. However, it done him good to sleep a few hours without anxiety waking him rudely.

  
Placing the cushions back on the sofas again, he slightly wonders about Jasons behavior earlier that morning. Usually, his big boy smiles at him dreamily like some lovesick teenager, pecks his lips and wishes him a good morning. This morning indeed, Jason had barely looked at him. Yawning and rubbing his face while straightening up, the deep voice informed him that it was time for his morning round and that he would take the kids with him. Nothing more. As he glimpsed up tiredly, he had noticed the bigger slashers uncomfortable shifting and how the blue eyes were actually glued to the floor. Not that Michael would miss the early affection, waking up most times he's glad being able to look straight, he definitely is no morning person, but Jasons behavior still was weird.

  
„ _He's getting tired of you._ “

  
Would've been to good to be true if the soothing silence inside his head would've lasted only a little bit longer.

  
„ _He'll soon abandon you_.“

  
„He loves me.“, Michael mumbles, keeping his hands busy with cleaning up. Christ, it has already gone so far that he replys to his sick mind! Perhaps some of the meds at the sanatorium weren't as useless as he claimed them to be. Though the voices never creased entirely, they were getting quieter and it had been easier to bare the talking.

  
„ _Haha, you really believe that? Come on, meantime you should know better…_ “, it speaks up again, laughing at him hysterically, „ _…Isn't it obvious what he loves? He loves that you're easy to lay, not you, you cheap whore._ “.

  
It isn't true…or is it? No, it can't be! He was the one showing Jason intimacy for the first time, the big guy can't just love him becaurse of the sex. He had been affectionate and had a crush for him before they even had touched each other and he had been nervous and rediculously unexperienced. Jason certainly isn't one of the predator-type, only looking for a quick and easy fuck.

  
„ _Face it! What else should he love about you? That you're psychotic? That you're already started to talk back to your self? That you've got seriously anger problems? That you're not even able to love him back? Certainly not!..._ “, it mocks him and Michael feels impatience shoot up inside him, gritting his teeth with his hands clenched thight into the back of the sofa, „... _He loves the filthy whore you are! And why not, after all it's so damn easy to have you. You don't even need to get forced anymore, you just can't keep your legs closed caurse that's all you can do right. You're a filthy slut and you'll always be!“_.

  
„ **SHUT UP!!** “

  
Startled and quickly throwing one hand over his mouth, Michael relievedly remembers he's alone at the cabin. He wouldn't know how to explain his sudden outburst, wich sounded far more desperate as he intended to. Waves of emberassament and shame are wasching over him, leaving his body heating up unpleasently. It's true, as time went by, he had gotten more and more low. Hooking up with almost everyone who at least barely reached his standarts. Most times guys wich were glad to get a go or a few times even women whenever the mood struck him. He really had willingly given in to his needs and the voice is right. He's a slut, he always was and he always will be, letting himself get used or use somebody else without any concerns. Is he using Jason? Or is Jason using him? Fuck…  
Feeling his head start to spin and bile rise up in the back of his throat while unpleasant memories pop up inside his mind, it whispers to him again: „ _You're so pathetic._ “.

 


	18. Camp freakshow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It appears that I'll update the story every weekend ^^' During the week, there're too much distractions.

<img src="[](http://www.bilder-upload.eu/show.php?file=6c31c5-1535290584.jpg)"I started with this drawing way earlier than with writing this fic, but it fits, doesn't it? :D" />

 

Kneeling at the lakes shore, Michael shivers when his hands dive into the cool water. In contrary to Jason he's able to get in contact with the dark water without getting strucked by a painful jolt. Though, it doesn't feels as water actually is supossed to feel. It should be wet, that's all, but there's much of power stored in the lakes depths and everytime his skin gets surrounded by it's water, it tingles and frizzles over his nerve strings. You know that feeling of a really light electrical shock? Just like that! A nice buzz, but althogh you know it's not dangerous, you're kind of afraid that it possibly could be harmful. Indeed it feels quiet nice and he's drawn in by the lake ever since he got to the camp, but the same time it makes him nervous. Who the hell knows what's hiding in the darkness underneath the smooth surface. Usually he would say fish, frogs and other water creatures, but at camp freak-show? Michael wouldn't be the slightest surprised to see the swampman walk out of the lake. He had never been afraid of water, not even after his dad had thrown him into it yelling at him „If you don't want to drown, swim!“, to _teach_  him swimming. But this lake somehow makes him feel uneasy. Maybe becaurse Jason drowned in it and imagine his companion getting swallowed by the dark water still isn't something Michael appreciates to think of.

  
However it may be, the fact that he's able to touch the water without getting knocked out cold makes him responsible for the laundry. Yes, even immortal slashers have to do the laundry and it annoyes him enormously! But there's nothing he can do about it. The little ones are looking every day like pigs wich had rolled around in a puddle of mudd and Jason isn't the cleanest either. Scrubbing the bigger slashers jacket, he remembers how much of resistence Jason gave when he first asked him to hand him his clother to clean them. Obviously Jason hadn't ever claimed it necessary to wash his clothes, but only becaurse he's a rotting lifing dead doesn't means he has to be filthy! Especially not when he gets close to Michael. After calling the big guy an old, dirty pig, he had eventually surrendered and handed over his clothes reluctantly.  
Not that Michael would've a mania of cleanliness, no really not. He doesn't minds the cabins wracked and chaotic state, neither does he care about neat order and cleanness, but the three nervsawing guys certainly won't run around like mucky pups. Not with him in charge for the laundry! Sometimes it's like dealing with three kids and slowly but steadily he wonders when exactly he had volunteered to become a mother of three. Inside, Jason has remained the little, blundering boy and only his body had kept on growing. So, crouching there and grumpily trying to get rid of the resistant stains of whatever decorating Jasons jacket with a abstract pattern, Michael gives his best not to pop a vain. _How can someone be this dirty?!,_ he asks himself desperately not sure if he even wants to know what kind of dirt is sticking to the fabric. Anyway, what the actual heck does Jason do to get this filthy?! It's as if the three would do it purposely only to drive him nuts.

  
„ _Stop complaining! At least you're good for something else than satisfying Jasons sexual needs._ “

  
Flinching, he almost drops the piece of fabric. By all demons, the damn voice won't shut up and it always talkes in the impractical moments…  
„What if you just fuck off and offend someone else?“, he snarls knowing well that it's more than weird to respond to the voice. Fortunately he had been able to supress any responses while in company, well till yet. Sooner or later he certainly will growl or mumble strange things and make the other wonder if it finally is time. And who knows, maybe it is! During the last two weeks, it had become more and more difficult to ignore the building up pressure inside of him. He already knows the pressure and by experience, also knows that to pressure follows a blow up, for sure.

  
„ _You know I can't do that. Somebody has to remind you about your status._ “, it interrupts his train of thoughts.

  
A deep sight draws out of him and Michael wishes it would become as it had been when he first arrived here. The voices were gone and it was the most soothing and comfortable silence inside his head, he had ever experienced. There were barely a few days in his life, he is able to remember not hearing the voices whisper to him. When they were gone, it had been a great relive, but as it always is, nothing good stays long with him. Only when Jasons energy fills him completely and it feels like nothing else exists anymore, the voice creases for a while. But since the evening in the woods when they had loved each other, well Jason did and Michael observed very attentively, the big guy had been strangely distant. The tender embraces, the soft kisses and the fond touches had reduced to a minimum. Jason withdraws from him and they also hadn't fucked since two weeks now. Normally he should give a flying shit about it, but with Jason nothing remained normal and it leaves Michael getting frustrated and insecure to it's fullest. Maybe the voice was right and Jason get's tired of him. It grabs his chest in a mercyless iron grip and lets the numbing feeling of loneyness creep into him again, but if it's true, he has to find out. As unpleasent it'll get and as much as the truth will hurt him, he has to confront Jason, though he doesn't knows how to manage it.

  
Watching the high standing suns rays glisten and dance on the lakes still surface, he replays the past days inside his mind. Though Jason hadn't ended all of their attraction for each other, his avoiding was clear. The big guy had stopped to touch him during the day. Normally he would suddenly show up behind him and sneak his arms around his waist no matter what Michael was doing currently or he would lightly brush his fingers over the demons arms or tights, everytime sitting next to each other or would steal a kiss every now and then. Now, it seems like Jason is barely able to look him in the eyes. Michael had tried to sense something through their bond, but everytime he made an attempt to sneak his way inside, it had been as if a massiv metal door got thrown shut right in front of his face and got locked up securly. Something unusual for Jason, caurse most times he's as easy to read as an open book and it only incites the demons worries and building up fear. At least Jason hadn't evaded, when he had tried to show him his affection. But though he hadn't, his big boys touches were more careful, his embraces less close, his actions not as free as usual and it felt as if Michael would force himself onto the big guy. No matter how much effort he gave, if he had been gentle, rought, obsequious or dominant, it seemed like Jason was about to hide into a shell.

  
And it hurts, deep inside it hurts to get pushed away. The voice is right, he's pathetic and the pain only increases his feeling of humiliation, but it hurts. Not only his pride or ego, but also the sensitive and vulnerable part inside him wich still hopes for a happy end, as stupid as it is. Never would've Michael thought it would effect him that much. When Jason sticked to him as if he had a magnet pinned to his ass, it always had slightly annoyed him. Perhaps, caurse he isn't used to such a constant closeness, but now that it's gone, he misses it greatly! The last few days, his desperation had almost reached it's peak. Everytime Jason got near to him, walked past him, sat next to him, Michael mentally begged the bigger slasher to touch him. Lay one of his cold hands onto his shoulder, run the rotten fingers through his hair and make that pleasant shiver run down his spine again or just even nudge him, but nothing. Jason stayed distant and with the days passing by, Michael became lesser and lesser able to stand his lovers rejection. He would've never dreamed that somebodies rejection could hurt him so much and make him react so intensly, but specially now that he began to slowly accept his feelings for Jason, it hurts at least twice as much. If Jason doesn't wants him anymore, he has to know and if it's true, God and Satan help him. The demon really doesn't knows what will happen if his greatest fear comes true, but certainly it won't get pretty…for none of them.

  
\------------------

  
Jason is metaphoricly sitting on the exact opposite of the lake. He hadn't intended to withdraw, really not, but though it had happened. The last two weeks he had tried to reassure himself. You're not hurting him, stop being an idiot. You're possibly not even able to seriously hurt him!, he had thought over and over, but still, every little touch made him flinch. The sensation of the abuse still vivid and strong, every time he got close to Michael, he remembered what had happened to him. Michael might think the last weeks had frustrated him, but for Jason it hadn't been a walk in the park as well! The big guy had been torn between his huge desire for his devil and the irrational, but enormous fear to hurt him somehow. It made him crazy! Add his heavy guilt into the mixture and the desaster is perfect. Honestly, he feels miserable…

  
While the devil is doing the laundry and Jason listens to his distant cursing, the bigger slasher absently claps his hands to the tiny ones of little Michael. It's a game where they clap their hands together while the small one is singing some chidrens rhymes and though Jason really tries to concentrate, the concerns about Michael and how to fix things again are distracting him completely.  
„Hey! You have to pay a little more attention!“, the little devil complains, pouting about the third failed try to do the syncro in a fluid row. Looking at the frowning face, Jason can't help but to remember the emptyness he had seen reflecting in Michaels eyes in the devils nightmare. „Sorry…“, he mumbles under his breath, hearing little Michael sight deeply and command to begin from the start again. How should he ever be able to supress what he had seen?! It sticks to his brain as if someone had burned it into the grey matter with a glowing iron and no matter the situation or wich of his daily tasks he's doing, the memories pop up out of the blue and they throw him right out of the line. The feeling of being helpless and the need to make everything good again is getting so strong, the only thing Jason wants is to burry himself into that warm body again. Being with his demon in this special way always made him feel calm and all his insecurties got blown out of his head. There remained nothing expect for Michael and the broad guy really had been at peace during these moments. No worries, no insecurities, no doubts, no painful memories of the past, just Michael and the amazing feeling he gifted him. If there wouldn't be his stupid anxiousy. If…Chewing on his bottom lip, Jason wonders about exactly how strong his addiction for the devil had become. Six month ago, he would've never even dreamed about the things they had done and now? Now he's totally and completely addicted to Michael.

  
Admittedly, he hadn't been able to stay away from Michael entirely. After all he's just a man! A lifing dead, immortal man, but only a man! His mother always said men are only interested in one thing. Back then, he had no idea what she was talking about and what that _one thing_ could be, but meeting Michael it suddenly had made perfect sense. And who could blame him? There's possibly no one in the great wide world who could resist the devils tempting and evil teasing. And damn, he had been a tease! Straddling the big guys lap every time they had been alone and working his wicked magic on him by being so tender and gentle that it almost had been rediculous and Jason just hadn't been able to resist completely. Oh no, when the demon took possesion of his lap and seductively circled his damn hips while pulling Jason into the sweetest of kisses, his own body had betrayed him willingly. It responded happily to the demons provoking, no matter if Jason wanted to or not. At least he had been able to talk himself out of sex…till now. The demon's getting more and more impatient and frustrated with him he can tell, but though he can't shake off his fear and still immens shock about what had happened. He shouldn't feel this way, certainly not, but when the memory strucks him he just isn't able to supress his disgust and loathing, while actually he should feel totally amazing with Michael so close.

  
Also, his guilty conscience is killing him! By everything unholy, he had never felt so guilty before! Not even when he broke his mothers favorite porcelain figure by accident and instead of telling her, hid the pieces under his bed, too afraid to convess. But in contrary to his mother, Michael certainly won't react so cool headed when finding out about it. His mom had been angry, yes, but after she had left him alone for a while to think about what he had done, she came back and told him he had to never be afraid to tell her something, no matter what it was. „ _You're my precious and special, little boy, I could never be angry about you for long._ “, she had said smiling warmly and soothing him while wrapping him into one of her coziest embraces. Remembering it Jason smiles sadly while absently continuing with clapping. Sometimes he misses her so much it literally makes his body ache. Though she's talking to him every now and then, he misses her closeness greatly. How secure he had always felt in her arms, how she had been able to cheer him up every time he had felt down or depressed, how fondly she had always been and how she always looked after him. Being with Michael feels related, but the same time very different. Maybe becaurse his heart's surrounded by coldness since so long that it became a frozen relict and her's always had been warm and kind.

  
Thinking about his own _precious_ _boy_ , the heavy feeling of endless guilt crashes into him again. Who knows what Michael will do when he finds out? Everything would be possible! But with hundred percent security, he won't be amused. He‘ll probertely will be even so mad at him, that he doesn't wants to have to do something with Jason anymore and that thought is frightening the big guy to his bones. He had grown so used to the devil that he can't imagine a day without him anymore. Interesting how fast someone gets used to someone else, isn't it? All the decades before he had felt lonely from time to time, but never really wished for constant company, but now, only imagine Michael could leave him makes his throat tighten so hard that he has to gasp by the sheer thought. The devil is the only one who had ever shown affection towards him, well besides his mom, but Michael is the one and only lifing who's there for him. Jason can't allow Michael leaving him. No, never! No matter how guilty he feels. There must be a way he can get rid of his uneasy feelings.  
Maybe he even could deal with his guilt and shame, hadn't Michael said these three special words the night two weeks ago. It’s like the cherry on top of Jasons guilt. Though obviously Michael isn't aware of what he had said. No, otherwise there would've been an outburst already or other unmistakeable hints, but nothing had happened besides Michael growing impatient with him. But even if the demon just had talked in his sleep, the effect had been as huge as if he would had been wide awake and aware of his words. On one side Jason feels a cozy and warm feeling spreading in his chest remembering the muttered words, on the other the weight of guilt and shame increases untellable strongly. I'm such an moron…, he thinks, wishing he would had never spyed into the demons head. But if he hadn't, how should he be able to help? Or get a better understanding of Michaels way too intense behavior? He has still no fucking clue how he could help with such a serious matter and on top he has to find a solution for his own to a different tune marching feelings now, but he'll come up with something for sure! He only has to concentrate hard enough and he will. Even if he ends up with a short circuit in his brain!

  
„What an usefull member of this absurd bunch of freaks you are!“, the growling voice of his devil drags him out of his thoughts ungently.

Hands midair, Jason only stares startled at Michael, who's standing in the doorframe, holding an empty clothes basket. Little Michael on contrary isn't impressed in the slightest. Somebody yelling or picking up a fight is an used tone for him, so no reason to worry.

  
Even when doing such ordinary things like the laundry, only changing the pitch of his voice and slightly changing his body language, Michael appears frightening dangerous. „Sorry…“, Jason mumbles again, slightly guessing it shouldn't be the last time for him to apologize today. The blue eyes are shying away from the devils angry gaze, making Jason look like a puppy that has peed on the new carpet. Sitting there on the floor, crossed legged, wearing a worn out camp crystal lake shirt and some slightly too small shorts, Michael almost feels sorry for him. Almost!

  
„Yeah sorry…Can't buy something with your stupid sorries.“  
Huffing the demon angrily throws the basket into a corner, not giving a fuck about Jasons offended frown and grunt. He knows the big guy hates it when somebody destroys things wantonly and without a good reason, but right now he couldn't care less or better, if it bugs Jason, **great**!

„Very adultly.“, Jason grumbles while unelegantly standing up from the floor. Michael acting like a il-bred boy manages to push his guilt away and triggers Jasons own temper. Sure, he has made a mistake, but first Michael doesn't knows about it and second even if, it's no reason to get all snotty. Why has he always to act like a brat?!

  
„Says the one who's playing stupid kids games instead of doing something usefull!“, Michael spits, answering his big buddys comment while watching Jason pet the dust from his pants.

  
„At least I care for them!“

  
„Oh, wasn't it you who said I wasn't able to give enough of attention to care for them?!“

  
„You're twisting my wor--…Hey!“

  
Feeling his temper jump two levels higher at once, Jason rushes after Michael who's making his escape sliding elegantly through the terrace door right in the middle of their starting fight. Oh, no the devil won't leave him behind just like that.

  
„Don't even think about running away…“, the bigger slasher snarls grabbing Michaels wrist and jerking him around, „…We're not done yet!“.

  
Shifting his gaze to his wrist and back to Jason, Michael decides attack is the best defence. The next second his free fist collides with the deformed skull. Flickering anger immediately clouds his mind what lets Jasons surpirsed whine almost slip past his attention. The big frame is stumbling backwards, holding his by the impact spinning head while Michael remains glued to the spot and just watches while breathing heavily and rubbing his wrist. Sometimes, Jason realy isn't able to evaluate his strength. It definitely will bruise, _Thanks asshole_ , he thinks getting more furious.

  
„Are you fucking crazy?!“, Jason shouts at him, his voice filled with disbelieve and still surprised about the sudden punch, after gaining a stable stand again. And the demon can't help but to grin by the question and give a arrogant snarl. Chuckling lightly and slowly approaching Jason he says: „I already told you I am. Remember?“.  
The pitch in the devils voice makes Jason immediately feel uneasy and a strange feeling washes over him. Something's wrong. His voice is higher as usual and the slight mad undertone makes Jasons alarm bells go crazy. Taking up the black eyes gaze while the smooth body strolls towards him suspiciously slow and stalking, Jasons uneasy feeling increaes abruptly. There's definitely something wrong. He knows the sparkling anger, knows the mischief, but right now enbedded into the dark orbs also is something else and he doesn't likes it. Not one bit. It's something foreign that makes the hairs on his neck stand on end.

  
„Michael…“, he begins rasing his hands in an attempt to reassure the killer, but it doesn't works. The second Michael reaches him, he gets jumped like a prey on the run and lands roughtly flat on his back, the impact drawing the air out of his lungs. „What is it, Jay? Don't tell me you're afraid of me.“, the demon laughes, sounding as if falling into some sort of hysteria while the slender hands grab the rotten wrists and pin them to the ground. „I told you I'm a psychopath, so why so surprised?“.

  
Once again, Jason is impressed by the devils strength. Though he's slightly smaller than him and also more slender, he is easily able to keep up with Jason. With the elegant body on top of him, boring one knee into his chest and the demons hands pressing his wrists to the ground, he's barely able to twitch even the slightest. But it’s not his inferior position what frightens him the most, not even Michaels half laughed-half spitted words. It’s his unfamilar gaze what makes cold shivers run down the big guys spine, freaking him out and no matter what it is, what's trying to surface, he better stops it now.  
„I don't want to hurt you.“, he says trying to sound as calm and pacifying as possible. When Michael leans in, he instinctively shifts back, pressing down into the dirt away from his demon. A dark chuckle sneaks into his ear and sounding as if on the edge of absolut madness, Michael whispers to him: „Oh, I know you don't want that. Always so gentle and fondly. Guess mommas good boy just can't do else…“ pressing his masked lips closer to the big guys ear, Michael finally pushes the right button, „…but you know what? If you won't hurt me, maybe I should take the chance and finally get rid of the two brats.“.

  
It happens fast and the next time he blinks, he's thrown onto his back and Jason is hovering over him, his right fist raised ready to strike down. „What the actual hell is wrong with you?!“, his big boy roars, close to lose his shit. A satisfied grin shows up under the devils mask. He wanted Jason to snap, wanted him to response, no matter how, just give him something more than just the barely attention from the past days. Somehow Jasons weight on top of him feels good. The heavier and bigger body is pressing him to the ground and squeezes his ripcage enough to make breathing difficult. In expectation of getting hit and finally getting more attention from Jason, he feels his cock do a twitch inside the overall. _Wow, now you're even getting off by being beaten up_., he thinks resigned, but he doesn't cares. He's a filthy and low whore, sure his body reacts as it does. „Do it.“, his smooth voice pleads challenging, more than ready to take the lifing deads fury. Jasons fist crashes down fast and with his eyes squeezed shut, Michael needs a moment to get what happened.

  
„What?“, Jason asks in a small voice, staring down on his devil with a confused glare, his fist an inch next to the masked face and slightly digged into the ground.

  
He hasn't got hit and while hearing Jasons quiet question, his own fury boils up again, his satisfication gets repressed and suddenly it feels as if he would get ripped into thousand pieces. The pressure inside reaches it's peak rapidly and before he knows what's happening, for a short moment he loses himself in the white blizz of pure desperation indicated anger. „ **DO IT! DO SOMETHING! ANYTHING!** “, it ripples out of him so loud his vocal cords start to burn, „Just don't…don't avoid me any longer!!“.

  
Jason straightens up when the demon throws his outburst at him. Kneeling between the strong tights, all he can do for several long moments is stare down puzzled. The demons eyes are sparkling, but now it isn't anger or insanity anymore, they're filling with tears and a stinging pain strucks through his dead heart. Michaels eyes widen when he gets what he has just shouted and as if paralyzed he can't do anything else than reply the bigger slashers stare.

  
Does it really botheres Michael so much that he had withdrawn? Honestly Jason always had thought the demon had been annoyed by his sometimes a little too intense affection. There had been several different situations where he had gained eyerolls, annoyed huffs or snappy comments. The last he had expected was that the distance would have such an effect on his love. When the penny drops, it tears a whole in his heart and he immediately feels his chest clench hard. _I'm such a dull jerk._ , he thinks when regret hits him.

  
„Micheal…I-I never meant to-.“, but he gets interrupted when the demons body gets shaken by violent sobs, trembling underneath him.

  
„I can't stand it any longer! … If you're getting tired of me, please tell me!...“, tears are tickling down his cheeks and the words just burst out of him, not noticing how shaky and weak his voice sounds, „…Maybe it'll help if you start with beating me up. Anything would be fine, just don't push me away.“.

  
When the desperate whines crease and turn into hiccups and sobs again, Michael hides his face behind his arms. He can't stand the gaze of the blue eyes, too afraid to discern a truth wich would break him entirely. Spluttering on his tears and salvia, he gets aware of his wastet state and how pathetic he's right now in front of Jason. He hadn't planned to break down, hadn't considered the pressure to errupt while provoking Jason and certainly not to turn into crying instead of raging, but now there's nothing to stop it anymore. Burning shame grabs him and instinctively he tries to curl up into a tight ball to hide from Jasons attention, but the bigger slasher is still kneeling between his tights and he can't move enough to hide. He's silent and doesn't moves an inch, only his throaty breathing can be heared. As the silence stretches, Michaels panic rises to till yet unknown hights, making it impossible to supress his crying and incredible hard to keep his breathing at bay and avoid to hyperventilate. After what seems like forever, the cold fingers are lacing gently around his wrists. Pushing his arms down slowly, Jasons deep voice whispers: „I would never beat you up.“.

  
„But maybe it'll help…I know I'm a hand full…perhaps you won't tire out on me or at least not so fast…“, Michael whimpers completely possesed by his emotional chaos, sniffing and still sobbing while staring to the side. He just can't meet Jasons gaze, it's too embarrassing and still he's afraid he can't stand the truth. A gentle hand cups his cheeck, carefully tipping his head to face Jason. „I'm not getting tired of you…“, the big killer soothes, stroking the masked cheeck softly, „…I'm sorry for withdrawing. I just…don't wanted to push you.“. The lie makes sense and certainly Michael will buy it, but the second it slips out Jasons lips, the weight laying on him gets even heavier. Not only that he spyed on the demon, no, now he’s even lying to him. Though it's true as well, he doesn't wants to push his love, but still…

  
„I thought...you had…shit…“, Michael stutters feeling like the king of idiots for mistaking Jasons behavior and freaking out obviously without any reason, „…God damn, I’m such a mess.“. His insecurities and the voice inside his head had managed to trick him again. He should've known better, should've remembered the traps and tricks, but again it had gotten so bad that he fell for it. Again he reacted like an absolut dumbass. Feeling Jason bend down and softly wrapping his arms around his back, a whispered _Sorry_  pushes out of him. I'm such a fucking fool, he thinks, selfhatred blooming up again. Most of all he wants to kick his own ass!

  
„There's nothing to be sorry about…“, Jason reassures him while pecking on the exposed neck, „…I love you. I really do.“.

  
Jason does. Though his energy still keeps a distance, Michael can sense it. Responding to the fondly words and the soothing feeling flooting him, the demons arms wrap around Jasons neck, holding on tight. The cold lips are feeling even better as the weight pushing him down and relieve shots through him feeling Jason tightening his embrace as well. His body is still trembling by the wasted state he's in and it feels incredible safe in the big guys protecting embrace.  
Still nestled between the demons tights, it gets difficult to not comfort him further and give him what he's craving for so needily. The demons hips are rocking slightly and Jason feels his flames reach out for him and how the demon relaxes in his embrace. But, let alone of his irrational fear to possibly hurt Michael, there are additionally two little details which stop him from eating Michael alive right here and now.

  
„See? They're like an old married couple.“, little Michael whispers to little Jason, sighting deeply and rolling his eyes. Crouching behind the frame of the terrace door and peeking around the corner, he adds: „Cads' fighting when ended is soon mended.“, giving his friend an all-knowing smile to sooth his worries.

  
\-----------------

  
„Sounds beautiful.“, Michael mumbles, nuzzling his face further into the crook of Jasons neck. The bigger slasher is humming a slow melody and with every tune, the vibrations tingle through Michaels fingers resting on the broad chest. Usually Jasons voice is kind of harsh and sometimes it breaks, perhaps becaurse his vocal cords are rotting as well, but however…Humming along the deep voice sounds smooth and evened, it's bass paired with Jasons earthy scent flooting his senses are luring the demon into an even bigger calmness. It's somehow hypnotic and Michael gives an insisting little grunt, when the melody stops and Jason speaks. „My mom always sang it to me. I can't remember the text properly, but I still know the melody.“, he says tightening his hold around the demon. Right now, everything's just perfect again. _God, I hope it stays like this_., Jason muses fearing his worries could built up again. Feeling his mate snuggle even closer, he rolls onto his side, facing Michael and hiding his face into the soft, brown hair.

  
They're at their little hide out on the roof and Jason can't imagine a place he would rather be now than right there. The demons body is covered in a thin film of sweat and it still is heated up. With his face hidden, he's still panting lightly and Jason can't supress the little satisfied smile tucking the corners of his lips. He enjoys being able to turn Michael into a panting and completely wasted mess. Honestly there's no better feeling as when the demon gives in completely and sacrifices himself to him. This time the devil seems even more wasted as usual. The tenseness between them and the two weaks of being abstinent sure had made the sex way more intense and Jason as well feels more overwhelmed as usual. Maybe they should always make a pause of two weeks?

  
„Jay?“, the demon asks quietely after listening to the lifing deads heartbeat a while. Hearing a low humm from above, he whispers shyly: „Can you keep on humming that melody?“. Drawing away a little his big boys blue eyes are giving him a surprised gaze. „You like it so much?“, he asks, an amused smile appearing on his lips and his brows rising up. It's not like Michael to politely ask for something, no, normally he manipulates to get what he desires and neither would've Jason thought his devil would enjoy his voice so much. His smile only widens when Michaels eyes meet his gaze and the same shyness his voice carried is embedded in them. He had never seen the maniac like this and though he can't see it, he bets Michael is blushing hard under the mask. An image what lets his heart do a flip and express an unconscious little chuckle. „It calms me.“, the demon eventually convesses, hiding his face to the broad frame again. He never had been good in asking for comfort or anything that would make him owe someone one. Fortunately Jasons cold body alleviates the thousand hot neadles pricking his whole body and hiding to the bare chest shields him from the soft blue gaze.

  
When the deep tune continues, Michael immediately eases. His eyes flatter shut and while he enjoys the deep vibrations washing through him and sooth him, he gets sure Jason is the one, the only one in all possible worlds and universes, he's able to love in his own twisted and sick way. Never had he felt so secure being this close to someone, not even with his mother. She let it all happen and never stopped him., he thinks with a sudden sting striking through his chest. When he tenses even if only barely, Jasons hold tightens around him. It’s true, his big boy isn't good with words and he might be raw and blunt, but in reading his body language and sensing every tiny change in it or noting every little move, he's a fucking genuis! It's still hard to admit, but there's no possible other place Michael wants to be more than here wrapped into the bigger slashers arms and pressed to his strong body. Right here, there's nothing that could manage to hurt or harm him, he's sure. With Jason, though the voice inside his head keeps telling him else, it feels right. As if it has to be this way and every cruel event, every fuck up, every damn shit that happened had led him here to his water spirit. The novelettish thoughts are revolting to him and every cell in his body gives resistence, but it's just true.

  
Maybe it's the aftershock of his outburst or breakdown or whatever it was, maybe becaurse the soft melody lures him into a foreign feeling of peace and stableness, but the more he thinks about the whole mess from the past six month, the bigger his urge gets to tell Jason how he feels. „ _He'll laugh at you! I can't believe you're really that stupid._ “, the nasty being inside his mind speaks out. Maybe it's right, though he doubts Jason would laugh at him, but maybe he won't believe him. Indeed there's a high chance Jason won't believe him. He had told him several times not being able to love or feel something considerable, he had fought vehemently against the big guy trying to convince him of the opposite and last but not least, Jason knows well how jumpy and twisted he is. Perhaps he would think it is just one of his moods if he even believes him.  
The voice made it again. It managed to bring back his insecurites and doubts and now it's pushing the selfhatred right after. „ _That's right, he won't believe you. And why should he? Even as a kid you had been a genuis of a liar and manipulator. You did the same to Jason, remember? Cheating, manipulating and sneaking to get what you want, no matter what he may had wanted._ “

Squeezing his eyes shut, it hurts to admit that it's true. But never had he intended to hurt his big buddy or make him do something he really doesn't wanted to do. Using his sneakyness and tricking people is just his way to not get left behind. He had to become like this! How else should've he survived? _I've never hurt him and I love him…_ , he muses his reply to the voice not noticing how his hands claw into Jasons rotting flesh. _You know damn well why I had to become what I am now. You had been there!_

  
„ _Oh yeah I did and you know what? It wasn't enough, it had been far away from enough. You believe you had to become a liar, a filthy whore, a killer? You should've learned your place instead! What you have become is just another of your sneaky ways to shove away responsibility. And by the way, you don't even know what love is, how should you be able to love him?_ “

  
_How could I be responsible for it…_ , the demon thinks with sadness rising. Remembering the abuse leaves him shuddered. Had he been asking for it? He had behaved like a bull in a china shop his entire childhood, but had he asked for something like that? The beatings had been bad, the psychological assaults even worse, but though he had deserved it, all of it. But getting broken by his father the way he had done? The rational part of his mind is telling him no one ever deserves something like that, but the selfhatred fueled part is revolting against it noisily.

  
Suddenly Jasons words after he had shown him a small part of his past are echoing through his head again. „You hadn't deserved it.“, the big had said sounding deadly serious.  
And though the voice starts to shout at him again, his big buddys voice is louder. „Michael?...“, it asks full of worry and it's just then the demon notices the deep humming has creased, „…You're with me?“. He had called the devil a few times, but getting no answer Jason had started to worry.  
Getting aware of his stiffened body and that his nails are already digging into the flesh at Jasons back, Michael gives a rapid nod: „Sorry…I got distrected…“.

  
„You were far away, huh?“

  
_Fortunately he always finds his way back._ , Jason muses, gaining another nod as a reply. „You know…no matter what it is that made you uneasy, it won't happen again…“, pulling back enough to look into the black eyes and gently cupping the masked face a serious look crosses the bigger slashers face, „…No one will ever lay a hand on you again, I promise. You're safe with me. If anybody tries, I'll rip them into pieces.“.

  
Judging the stern gaze Jason gives him, Michael knows his big buddy is serious about it. It's strange when someone tells you he'll protect you when all your life you were on your own and had to protect yourself. Of course it really gets him, but the soft words also provoke his pride. „I know how to defend myself.“, he snarls, but sounds not the slightest as smug as he liked to. A cold hand runs through his hair and a little chuckle rumbles in Jasons throat. If he dares to call him cute or adorable now, Michael is sure he won't be able to hold back his snappyness.

  
But his big boy doesn't. He just looks at him, adoration cearly shown in the baby blue eyes and when he slowly slides Michaels mask up a little, pulling him into a lingering kiss, it’s too much to stand any longer. Pushing Jason away and pulling back forcefully, the demon can't hold back anymore, not just for a single second longer: „I have to tell you something!“. _Well done._ , he blames himself, hearing his words come out way too fast and husky, while Jason looks at him bewildered, not knowing what's going on all of a sudden. Short, the thought that Michael maybe is going to break up with him crosses his mind, but he shoves it away fast. They just made up, why should the demon end it now? Patientally, he waits watching Michael getting more nervous with every passing second.

  
„I think…“, the devils words die in his throat, „…It's possible…I mean it could be…“. Stuttering like an idiot, he facepalms himself menatlly. _Fuck, why is it so hard? I can ask him to fuck me harder and deeper without any hint of shame, but I can't say these three god damn words? Gosh!_

On top Jason is staring at him so blatantly that he literally feels the big guys gaze tear holes into him. „Could you stop to stare at me like I'm a fucking circus attraction?!“, Michael outright yells. His patience with his own self is growing thin and if he wouldn't be sure his heart is grown to his chest, he would seriously fear it could burst out any moment.  
When Jason drops his eyes shut and mumbles a little too amused sounding apology, Michael draws in a deep breath, trying to calm a little. _He tells it to you several times a day. Get yourself together, you should habe at least as much courage as he does!_

  
„I…uumm…Ah, crap!... I love you!“

  
And while Jason experiences the hugest mentally bash he ever had, Michael immediately hides his face between the pillow and the cold body. Squeezing his eyes shut up tight and curling up either, the heat of shame and embarassement is catching his whole being and it's almost unbearable. _Hell, you're so awkward!_  
Embarrassing silence stretches until Jason eventually brings out a stammered question: „You...you do?“. It's like someone had hit his head with a baseball bat and he just has to ask to make sure he heared it correctly. Suddenly the whole rooms spins and no matter how strong he holds onto his demon, it feels like getting crashed into a wall any minute.

  
„Yeah… I do. It possibly isn't the common version of love, but I guess in it's very core it's relatively the same.“

  
Listening to the muffled voice from between the pillows and him, Jason inhales a shaky breath, about to tell Michael how happy he is right now, when the demons head suddenly jerks up and a finger gets pointed into his face. „Don't dare to say something slushy now. It's not a big deal and we won't discuss it.“, Michael growls at him. But as much the demon tries to build up his walls again, it's not enough to trick Jason. Though the mask he sees the redness of the demons face where a little bit of space is left between his eyes and the edge of the mask. The demons lightly shaking voice and the immens heat radiating from him doesn't stays unnoticed either, but as tempting it is to tease him now, all Jason does is to smile widely. His unintact lips stretch so much that a light burning pain starts to throb, but he couldn't care less right now. „I love you too.“, he answers softly when he breaks the demons threatening gaze by pulling him into his arms again.

 


	19. You're just like your mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning**
> 
>  
> 
> Description of abuse  
>  If you're unstable or don't want to read about it, skip the first part of the chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Sweethearts!  
> I'm so sorry for the long wait! *ducks in shame*  
> Lately almost everything turned into a chaotic mess and though I'm a very calm person, I was close to jump someone. Fortunately now, most of the chaos is over and I am able to write again. Hope you're not too mad with me! Also, thanks to everyone defending this work or better this mess! :* As long as there're people enjoying it, it'll go on.
> 
>  
> 
> "I don't care if I steal the chalk from you.  
> I'll go to the blackboard and write my shit all over it!"

_„You just look like your mother, you know. But it's no wonder, you were always kind of effiminate.“_

  
_Sitting on a couch and facing the elderly man sitting in an armchair in front of him, Michael listens to the mumbled words, not sure if he should snap or run away. The grey haired man sips on his beer and obviously it's not his first one today, judging by the several empty bottles on the floor. And it's not that Michael isn't used to it. Used to the bottles, used to the mumbled words, used to the thick scent of different types of alcohol and used to the thin line between just talking and suddenly being in the middle of a grown outburst. It always had been like dealing with highly explosiv substances. Only one tiny wrong move and everything blows up into your face._

  
_„Oh…where're my manners?...Want one?“, offering one of the still full bottles, Michael only shakes his head no. He hasn't said a word yet. Since he find himself at his old home, he had just watched and listened, trying to stay calm and not freak out on the spot. „Still don't like the taste, huh?“, the rusty voice asks slightly amused and giving a little chuckle while Michael gives another weak headshake. No, he doesn't likes it. He likes the numbing effect, the liquids ability to make him forget for a short while, to shut all the thoughts and voices up, but the taste still disgusts him. Ever since the old man forced him to drink, the penetrant taste makes him sick to his stomache and often he had to force it down to get the wanted effect._  
_Clawing his hands into the cushions, Michael has to supress to choke only from remembering their little drinking sessions when everybody else wasn't home._

_„You always were that sensitive. No matter what I tried to toughen you, you stayed soft and sensitive…“, looking up, Michael notices the growing grin on the mans face, „…But seemingly you still turned out pretty well in the end. Not everybody would be able to do what you did, Mickey.“._

  
_And that's it. Hearing his nickname paired with the vicious grin makes the devil speak up eventually. „You made me do it.“, he spits, clenching his hands into fists and feeling anxiety rise up in expectation of a fast coming mood swing. „So, in the end I still did a good job, eh?“._

  
_„You did what?!...“, growling, Michael notices his body jumping up from the couch and his fists clench even harder, but isn't able to stop himself, „…A good job? You turned me into a psychotic serial killer and you call that a good job??!“._

  
_Leaning his hands on the armrests of the armchair and hovering over the still grinning and not a bit impressed man, the demon bends down almost nose to nose with his father: „I killed you all…How could anybody discribe that as a good job?!“_

  
_„At least you had become a men. That's something, isn't it? And you've always been a little maniac, there had been no need to turn you into one. If you weren't, I wouldn't had to treat you like I did.“_

  
_„You broke me…“_

  
_„I formed you.“_

  
_When a firm hand grabs his upper arm, Michael immediately jerks away. The memories of the past becoming so vivid by the words and the touch, that he can't stand even a second of close contact. The pain, the sickness, his endless helplessnes and the questions why all of it happenes, eventually driving him mad bit by bit. There's no way the old bastard believes in his own words! It can't. Nobody can be so twisted and fucked up to actually believe such a bullshit._  
_With his arms wrapped around himself, he watches his father slowly gathering up. He got old, his hair and beard all grey, his eyes tired and his former broad and intimidating frame now slightly bent and a bit haggard. If he wants to, he could snap the old mens neck without any effort, but still when his father approaches him, pure fear posseses him and lets him freeze on the spot. Only stumbling backwards is possible and he drops back onto the couch when he bumbs into it. It's like the air got robbed of all it's oxygen, no matter how fast and deep Michael breathes, it's not enough. His panic reaches it's highest point when the old man corners him as he did moments ago. On each side of his head one hand clenches the rest of the couch and Michael desperately whishes he could get swallowed by the cushions, when his father leans in close. Instinctively the demon presses his tights shut and thightens the grip around himself. Still, after all those years his body remembers it's forcibly learned mechanisms._

  
_„I had to educate you, you know that damn well! With your behavior and attitude as if you had total shit for brains…Should I just watch when you blundered or let your girly attitude go on without doing anything?!...“, the deep voice yells at him, making Michael sink even further into the couch and letting him feel like a small child again, „…Somebody had to do something since your stupid mother decided to consider it as no problem. And who should expect for me??“._

  
_It gets difficult to hold back the bile rising up in his throat while listening to his father and getting clouded in the heavy scent of alcohol. One of the hands grabs Michaels chin rudely, while a knee forces between his tights putting on painful preassure. He can't supress a whimper feeling the unwanted friction between his legs and frozen by fear, he immediately squeezes his eyes shut and mentally begs it won't happen again._

  
_„And this…“, his father spits, increasing the pressure even more to emphasis his words, „…this is barely my fault, Mickey. Like I said, you're just like your mother and despite her looks you also inherited her sluttyness. Who could resist such an easy lay like you?“._

  
_While Michael feels close to lose his consciousness, the hand on his chin slides up to his hair, pulling his head back forcefully. A high pitched cry escapes him, regretting it instantly, caurse he knows it only fuels his fathers lust even more. It had always been like this, the more he had cried and whimpered or tried to fight him off, the bigger the old bastards arousal got. Now getting jerked down on the couch by his hair, tears start to slide down his cheeks and feeling his fathers weight on top of him, Michael just whishes to die, eventually die and be at peace._

  
_„All grown up, aren't you?...“, his father grunts, leaning in and rubbing his groin against his. That's the second when Michael eventually can't supress to gulp and most of all he wants to cry, sob, whimper and plead, but he knows well it would be useless and only worsen his situation. If he holds still and just concentrates on relaxing the pain at least will be smaller than his disgust. Feeling the mens hands roam his body, sliding down his sides and up to his chest, his skin crawls and he can't fight the trembling infesting his body. Falling into rapid breathing and desperately staring at the ceiling, it's impossible to not flinch when one of the hands cups his crotch squeezing testily. He almost shoots up from the couch, wincing and gritting his teeth while every muscle tenses up tight, but the other hand is pinning him down and although he should be able to easily fight the sick fuck, he can't escape the firm grip. „Shh…nothing to be scared of. Already forgot how good it had always felt? Wasn't it me giving you your first climax?“._

  
_It's true and remembering it, how wrong it had felt and how disgusted he got with himself and his body, Michael can't stop from squirming under the unwanted touches. „Please don't…“, he pleads, his voice small and shaky, neverthless his better knowledge. „Don't? Your body is telling me something else…Look, you're already hard…“, the demon holds his breath when the pair of alcohol coated lips press onto his, desperately trying to escape into his mind, „…Jason should thank me for training you so well.“, his father says after pulling away._

  
_„J-Jason?“_

  
_„Mmmh, thought I didn't know about your little fuck buddy?“_

  
_„He's…he's not just that…“, Michael stutters, his chest clenching hard by mention his mates name. He would give anything to be with Jason right know. To be wrapped into his familar secure embrace and be totally and completely safe. His body betraying him is worse and it disgusts him massively, but the feeling of being extradited, helpless and on his own again is even worse! When his father speaks again, still stroking him, it feels as if every muscle fiber is starting to burn and close to rip: „He's exactly that! Though I first wondered that he's still able to touch you after getting aware of what a low whore you always were, even in your early years.“._

  
_Getting aware of? It's almost impossible to concentrate and Michael even isn't sure if he heard it correctly, slowly but steadily withdrawing into his mind and shutting everything else out. „He doesn't knows…I've never told him…“, he mutters his voice trailing off when his vision narrows and his stare gets empty. It'll be all good if he manages to crawl into his mind entirely. Hiding there, it's not important what happenes to his body. He‘ll just feel sore afterwards, but for the time being he won't feel anything. Straightening up and grabbing his sons chin again, the old man forces him back into the situation when showing up in his vision. „Did you already forgot? He saw us…“, saw them? Squeezing his eyes shut, Michael asks himself if the bastard is slowly getting senile. „He joined our first time, watching everything what happened. I can't believe you can't remember. Where else should his late hesitation come from?...“, a rought thumb brushes over Michaels tightly pressed together lips, „…What a cute little ninny you are. He saw it and now he knows exactly what you are. A cheap whore, an easy lay, perfectly made to catch up what he missed his past life. I just wonder how long he'll endure you. You're tempting and no challenge and everything, but you're also annoying as fuck. Guess it's just a matter of time until he'll watch out for a new toy.“_

Shooting up straight, he's panting and shaking, his fathers nasty grin still visible in front of his inner eye and the thick scent of alcohol still sitting in his nose. Darkness surrounds him and hectically looking around on the edge to get hysterical, it takes a certain while to realize where he is and what had happened. It's the cabin, their bedroom and Jason is laying next to him. The slight snoring of the bigger slasher slowly grounds him to reality again. It was a dream, just a dream, Michael tries to reassure himself. One hand clenches the fabric of his overall at his chest, the other claws into the sheets and repeating the reassurence inside his head over and over again, the panting just won't die down. It's cold, Christ he's freezing! Though it's summer and even the nights are currently way too warm, the sweat drained overall makes him freeze like being locked out outside in the deepest winter. He had this dream before, several times before during the last weeks, but no matter how often it haunts him, when he wakes up it's barely doable to calm down again and it seems to get worse with every time.

  
„Fuck…“, he huffs, running both hands through his hair and hiding his face to his drawn up knees. A loud snore makes him flinch. Shit, he curses inwardly when Jason begins to shift next to him. He doesn't wanted to wake him up. Not that Jason wouldn't be able to fall right back asleep even if the cabin would burn ablazed, but he had seen him in such a wasted state so frequently the past weeks, Michael really wonders what he might think about him already. He's such a pathetic wrack, startling up at night, crying like a small child and not able to calm down again without Jason giving him comfort. The fuck is actually wrong with him?! His nightmares have never been this vivid and before getting to the camp he hadn't cried for years! Meanwhile, there're barely two nights in a row he's not crying in his sleep or waking up and breaking down. No words can discribe how ashamed he is for becoming like this!

  
„Michael?“, Jasons sleepy voice calls him softly and a cold hand lays onto his shoulder caursing him to almost jump straight out of the bed. „It's nothing, go back to sleep.“, he lies fast, hoping Jason will just turn around and continue his noisy slumber, so he doesn't has to display himself again. Jason never said somehthing hinting his unstableness annoyed him or that he minds spending comfort in the middle of the night, but still, Michael already feels like being a burden and a weak little mess. He doesn't wants to take advantage of Jason again.  
Maybe that's the revange of his mind and soul now. Maybe he had bottled up everything for too long and now the monsters of the past are haunting him even worse and they'll never disappear again.

  
„Was it the dream again?“, Jason asks, leaning on one ellbow and rubbing his tired eyes. Michael had told him about the dream and though he knows the devil hadn't told him everything, no most likely only a tiny fraction of the whole story, he's easily able to imagine the missing parts. If he just could tell him that he knows, that he fucking knows and won't allow anything like that to happen to his love again. Never! That he had felt it as well and knows what's going on inside the demons head. If he only could… Jason slides closer when Michael gives him a small nod, confirming it was the same dream again. Lifting up the blanket he slowly eases Michael back under the covers and as close to his body as possible. Immediately the devil presses against him and though holding him thight, Jason is afraid he could fall apart right under his hands. With every nightmare, the devils reaction gets worse. It had started with silent crying in his sleep and rapidly waking up, searching shelter in his arms, but it constantly increased and now the smooth body won't stop trembling in his embrace and the sobbing and panting won't eaven.

  
„You're safe here with me…“, Jason whispers, running one hand up and down Michaels spine to soothe him, „…I've got you.“. It's just then that his still sleepdrunken brain notices the soaked overall and pulling back, he starts to undo the zipper. His movement stops abruptly when Michael stiffens, a terrified look in his dark eyes and his breathing hitching. „What…?“, the demon stutters almost unaudible. „You're soaked. Just don't want you to catch a cold, okay?“. It takes a while and Jason waits patientally until Michael eventually gives him another soft nod and allowes him to carefully free him out of the damp fabric. Seeing his maniac so terrefied and absolutely dissolved lets his cold heart break in his chest. The demons affection towards him hasn't changed, but everytime after a nightmare Jason has to be extremely cautious with his touches. A little too intimate and Michael jerks away or his body tenses immediately, freezing on him entirely. And he understands it. He has got a taste of what Michael had felt too often in his past and what he lifes through in his dreams over and over again himself.  
For a split of a second Jason whishes Michael would get as cold and case-headed as he had been when they first met. He wouldn't suffer so much and wouldn't be so rattled now, but he quickly shakes the thought away, thinking about that the coldness hadn't been healthy either and anyways not completely true. Throwing the overall to the floor, Jason quickly wrappes his arms around the shaking body again. Michaels heat and fire are still there, though his skin feels colder as usual. He's exhausted, Jason muses hoping the shaking and sobbing will crease soon.

  
„He said you'll leave me.“, Michael breathes after a while of absolute silence, his face burried into the big guys broad chest. He knows it's just his mind making things up, but still his imagination always manages to freak him out. Jason abandoning him has become the most frightening thought he's able to think of and getting told his big boy will leave him almost every night slowly but steadily finishes him. „I don't leave you. Never will…“, Jason whispers soothingly while planting a soft kiss onto the demons shoulder, regretting it when Michael twitches under it, „…If you want it or not, after all you're stucked here with me.“.

  
Hearing Michael give a wan little chuckle, Jason feels at least a slight relieve. „Seems so.“, the liquid voice agrees still sounding raucous, but finally the sobbing and trembling are ebbing down slowly. The moment his mates body eventually relaxes against him, Jason manages to relax again as well. The fear Michael could get trapped in his panic almost isn't standable anymore and though Jason always managed to calm him again, his own fear rises with every breakdown his normally proud and cocky demon has.

  
„I love you.“, Michael whispers hesitantely after being able to think relatively clear again. During the past weeks, he had sayed it at least once a day, but still he's far away from being used to it. Jason really is lucky being able to say it with ease while the demon always feels like breaking his tongue or choking on the words. His big buddys hold thightens around him, but he can feel Jasons increased cautiousness behind it. „Love you too…“, the deep voice purrs letting a pleasant shiver wash over Michael, „…Try to sleep a little more. Still way too early to stand up and wander around.“. To his soft request, Michael snuggles closer to him and eventually the devils arms slide around him too, giving him an equally pleasant shiver when his warm hands come to rest on the small of his back. I'll watch over you., the bigger slasher thinks, hoping Michael will be allowed to sleep without any other interruptions.

  
\----------------

  
Painstakingly during his duity the next day, Jason just can't stop jawning. The sun seems even brighter today and it's quiet difficult for his tired eyes to see straight. Hell, he had been awake all night after Michael finally fell back to sleep, nestled in his arms. The demon had been restless and whimpered and murmured a few times more, but at least he hadn't shock up again. As happy as Jason is with that, he feels like neatly chewed through and spitted out. The kids are jumping around him and while little Jason is busy with collecting some stones, little Michael is testing out how fast he possibly can run, asking him over and over again how fast he is. As if he is some kind of speedometer, but though it's even difficult to set one foot in front of the other, Jason patientally answers „Fast“, every time the small one asks.

  
When Michael had woken up while the first sunrays were falling into their bedroom, illuminating his devil in an unbelievingly soft light, Jason had been strained like a bow to know how the devils mood may be. To his relieve, Michael appeared as if the sleep had recovered him at least a little bit. He hadn't been hysterically happy, but everything else than deeply depressed or furious had been fine for the big guy. He had wished Michael a good morning and kissed the masked forehead. Jason smiles tiredly when he remembers the small sight the demon had exhaled. If someone would ask him, he would say it meant something like „ _I'm glad you're here for me._ “. Sometimes, Michael hasn't to talk to make him understand, especially not when being so close to each other and with their bond wide open.

  
For the rest of his duity, all Jason manages to do is barely watching his surroundings and just to keep a watchful eye on the kids. Would somebody decide to attack him, he would be an easy victim. Fortunately the only one who would seriously consider to attack him is currently pleased with him. I hope he won't switch again., he thinks when returning to the cabin. Michael showed him the meaning of the matter  _mood swing_ more than clearly and as much attention he may pays to his behavior, most times only a tiny trigger is enough to make the demon show it even clearer!

„Michael?“, he calls out looking for his demon on the lower level. Crossing the kitchen and the dining area, there's no trace of Michael. Maybe he's up on the roof…, Jason muses while hauling his tired body up the stairs. God, he had never been so tired before. Well, when he had been dead it had felt considerable, but at least he hadn't to walk around and deal with two children plus a psychotic lover. The stairs are squeeking under his heavy and slow steps and he gives a deep sigh of relieve when he finally reaches the top, quickly realizing he has to overcome two small ladders as well to get up on the roof. Today he gets spared nothing!

  
When he finally reaches the roof, he feels exhaustion grabbing him firmly. Most of all he wants to lay down on the spot, curl up and just sleep until he has to go for his evening round. Michael had talked him out of roaming the camps grounds three times a day, saying he anyway would sense when someone comes here and that he could spare the guarding or at least do it less often. Indeed it had taken away some of Jasons worries and he had reduced to two rounds a day. A dreamy smile appears on his face, remembering their little dispute about it. „Hey, someone's home there?“, the demon had said, knocking against the top of the hockey mask. „If someone takes a step over the border, you'll sense it immediately. Sometimes I really think you're acting dumber as you are only to make me snap.“. Jason doesn't, but from time to time his thoughts are taking detours and need a little bit longer to reach their destination. Michael may be a smug little wiseass, but secretely Jason really likes this side of him. Throwing the obvious into his face and asking him if he does it on purpose always makes him smile, caurse it's just too adoreable when the demon gets all worked up. Of course only when he's not about to lose his shit entirely!

  
Standing up there and tiredly thinking about his mate, he remembers the reason he climbed up there in the first place. But when he checks their hide out, the devil isn't there either. _Strange_., he thinks, starting to worry. Michael sometimes roams the woods on his own or spends quiet some time watching the lake, but never without saying a word. Feeling his worries increasing, Jason closes his eyes for a moment and tries to concentrate onto the demons energy. A deep frown lays on his face, first not able to locate Michael and when he finally does, the demon's so far out that he literally his walking along the camps border. Jason tenses hard, a terrefiyng thought stabbing him like one of the devils knifes. _Is he trying to leave?_

  
And with that, the big guy is suddenly wide awake! Tiredness? Gone! Fueled by unstoppable rising panic he makes his way down again in his best time. Certainly without the dose of adrenalin rushing through his system, he would've broken his neck, but his body moving on autopilot obviously increases his grace. „You two stay here and wait until we're back! Stay inside!“, he shouts when he passes the small ones, almost tripping over them on his way out of the front door. For a second, he worries about leaving them all alone, but they've been before without hell breaking lose and anyways, finding Michael is his number one priority right now.

  
\-----------------

  
The undergrowth slightly crackles under him when he cautiously leans forward, but immediately freezes, not moving an inch more. Big ears are turning suspiciously like satellite dishes, trying to get a signal and wide brown eyes are scanning the forest. Keeping absolutely still and quiet while breathing as flat as possible, Michael waits with an unusual patience until the animal eventually turns it's attention to grasing again. It's a beautiful roebock, it's fur silky and brilliant, adorning it in a lovely tone of red-brown. While ripping at the short grass on the small clearing, it slowly walkes back and forth, wigglling it's tail from time to time. Michael really admires it's graceness, drinking in every detail of the animal from the slender legs to the mayestic antler crowning it's head. It really is a beautiful and peaceful sight and though he enjoys it a lot, there's something else he came here for.  
Hiding in the thick bushes surrounding the clearing, he feels the adrenaline level rise steadily. Only imagine what he's about to do is enough to push his body and mind into a fast growing ecstasy. He always enjoyed hunting, though lately he always hunted humans instead of wild. But as a kid, he used to built little traps for rabbits or squirrels or, if he felt calm enough, shot them down with his slingshot. Back then, he had always pitied that he had no possibility to hunt larger animals, but it stopped when he started to hunt his favorite pray. Althrough, the deer isn't a repulsive human, it will do for now.

  
A light breeze blows through the trees while Michael still watches his pray and nervously weights one of his knifes in his right hand. Fortunately the wind comes from the front, otherwise the deer would smell him immediately. It carries my scent away., he thinks, smiling widely about the nice circumstances. It's strange, it really is, but there had always been an urge deep inside of him to hunt things down. And now, feeling like some kind of predator and unfamilarily connected with the forest and the nature around him, the demon is certain it's more than just an urge. It's an instinct, a need.

  
Indeed it got even more a pressing after his latest little breakdown during the night. Jason had calmed him reliable as always, but still his fathers words were repeating in his head over and over again. Besides the unpleasant sensation of the dream, the bastards words are the worst about it and he always had said the same. Sometimes the circumstances slightly changed or other insignificant details, but the words and the actions always remained the same. No matter how often the demon lifed through the nightmare, his fathers torment kept according to script. When he woke up that morning, the first thing shooting through his head had been „ _He saw us_.“, making him panic again. He has no clue how Jason possibly should've seen anything and though it is most unlikely, looking into his big buddys face while he smiled at him so warmly, whishing him a good morning, a certain fear creeps up on him, that anyhow Jason could know.

  
When Jason had left taking the kids with him as always, Michael hadn't been able to stand the silence at the cabin for long. The old bastards words were blarring through his head and got joined by several questions, one more unpleasant as the other. Could Jason know? If he does, how? If he doesn't, what's his fucked up mind trying to tell him imagine his father saying exactly that? In case Jason knows, what to do? Had he possibly said something without intention and that's why Jason knows? But, why should his father claim he  saw them? However it may be, staying at the cabin and drowning in his brooding hadn't been an option anymore. Heading out into the forest, he had took one knife with him just in case. Still his well known friend _mild paranoia_ sticks to him like glue, but noticing a track pushed into the muddy ground, another idea had bashed the paranoia out of his mind fast.

  
When the deer raises it's head again, the moment is there and the adrenaline and bloodlust are kicking in, banning all other things out of his system and mind. It takes just a few seconds for him to dash out of his hide and reach the surprised animal. A few panicly jumps, trying to flee, but the demons weight forces it down when he jumps his pray, grabbing it by it's antler and twisting it's head. Predator and pray meet the ground roughtly, hooved legs are kicking rapidely, nails dig into fur so hard it almost gets ripped off and Michael falls into bloodlust indicated blindness. He feels the struggling of the strong body, feels the animals deep schnaubrn, hears it's desperate cries and smells it's fear. Everything else gets banned from his attention. It's like the forest around them, the sky above them and even the air disappears, only leaving them behind surrounded by empty darkness.  
The blade tears into the sensitive flank, opening up the animal and while the elegant body jerks and fidgets violently and it gives a painloaded cry, a pleasant shiver washes over the demon. The warm blood running over his hand and it's rich smell are flooting his brains receptors, euphoria rising fast. His own body reacts to the intense sensation as well, letting his breathing deepen and fasten, covering his skin in a layer of sweat and letting it tingle all over while waves of a pleasant warmth struck through him again and again. The devil loses himself into a state without any controll left. All he can see is the silvery shimmer of the blade and the beautiful red color of the animals blood slowly draining the soft fur and also covering him. Stabbing and cutting, not caring where exactly the blade hits, he lets his need for destruction rage. He has to tear it apart, has to slash it entirely until only a bloody and not recognizable mess is left.

  
\-----------------

  
Feeling the devils energy perform a rapid twist from tense to raging like hellfire, Jasons already constant worried frown deepens. _The heck is he doing?_ , he asks himself, clueless what possibly could be the caurse of the intense swing. It can't be someone who's attacking the demon. Jason would've already sensed a foreign presence and people are showing up from time to time and indeed it's camping season, but ordinary humans wouldn't trigger Michael so much. Or better not like that. Chasing and slashing the last group of stupid indruders, the flame-like energy had felt joyfull, free and though it also raged, it had been a different kind of rage. He had been still able to sense the demons great disgust torwards humans and his irrepressible need to slaughter them on the spot, but it hadn't been as full of anger and hate as it currently feels to him. Thinking about it and definitely knowing it's no mortal caursing the melt down, Jason only gets more worried. He's left in absolut darkness about what's happening to Michael right now and it drives him crazy!

  
_Maybe he's blowing up, caurse the camp won't let him cross the border._ , he thinks, fastening his steps already jogging. He hates it, with every god damn cell of his body, but the thought of Michael leaving him makes him move as fast as possible. His heart sinks and panic rises mercylessly when he imagines Michael actually finds a way to trick the lakes will and really leaves the camp. What should he do then? Going after him isn't as easy as it sounds with the camp trapping him, two kids left alone at the cabin and being him, a not inconspicuous rotting immortal wearing a hokey mask and carrying a machete! Right, he could do nothing about it. While falling into a run without noticing, he thinks about if he may had done something wrong. But expect for stepping into Michaels head without permission and the demon doesn't knows about it, he isn't able to come up with an answer. But maybe Michael doesn't even needs a reason. His maniac sometimes is so muddle-headed and unpredictable, it could just be one of his moods or a crazy idea or whatever.

  
Coming closer, the big frame abruptly stops almost sliding on the muddy ground. The hellfire is extincted as fast as it broke lose and now, the devils energy feels suspiciously calm, mixed with something he can't identify clearly. Regret?, most unlikely, Michael isn't the type to regret something. Though it feels like or maybe it is guilt? Jason can't tell, but he has to know what happened and he has to know it **now**. The demon can't be far away any more and if he could, for his love, he would run even faster!

  
\-----------------

  
He leans with his back against a tree trunk, when he comes around enough to feel Jason approaching him from a slight distance. Still he's panting and the blood covering him hasn't dryed yet and it's smell still is so intense that it clouds his brain and makes him feel as if high on something. Killing had always been the strongest drug for him, no matter what else he had tried or what they had given him at the sanatorium. Nothing in this world is able to make him feel like after ripping something apart and destroying it, earasing the life within. Slowly letting his head fall to the side and surveying the bloody heap not far away, though he's still pumped full with euphoria, a small hint of regret hits him. _You're so sick_ , he muses, grinning from the thought not knowing why, but also not able to hold it back. The animal had been so beautiful, so proud and graceful, but he just had to tear it apart until only experienced eyes would identify it as a deer any more. _Perhaps that's why_., he speculates. None of the words to distcribe the deer would fit for him. Maybe he has to destroy it, caurse he'll never have it.  
But it doesn't matters. Resting his head back to the thick trunk and letting his eyes fall shut, everything that matters is his finally satisfied bloodlust. It had been way too overdue to take a life. It doesn't takes the vegetations crackling and rustling moments later to know Jason there. Let alone of his big buddys heavy huffing as if he's about to faint any moment, his energy is scanning the forest like arms of an octopus.

„I’m here.“, Michael eventually says softly, putting Jason out of his misery. The wet ground squishes under his heavy steps when he comes closer and Michael can't help to grin again thinking, _Just like an elefant._ Jason certainly isn't the type for creeping up. When he comes around the tree, the first thing the demon sees is the terrified gaze in the blue eyes, followed by a gasp and Jasons broad frame quickly falling to his knees in front of him. „What the fuck happened?!“ he asks almost yelling, brushing his fingertips over a blood soaked sleeve. Chuckling amusedly, Michael quickly reassures the frightened slasher: „No need to freak out. It isn't mine.“

  
„Whose is it?“

  
Nudging his head with a warm smile hidden under his mask, the demon points to the spot where the remains of his outburst are laying. He watches Jason looking over his shoulder and standing up to walk over in silence. The water spirit is the guardian of the camp, certainly he'll be not amused to find one of it's residents turned into a ripped and bloody mass. First Jason only stands there and watches the remains, obviously not sure what it had been before. Then he slowly circles it and though the situation is far away from being appropriate, Michael admires the sight of his big boy. The broad shoulders and back, his wide chest and strong built, maybe he's still just too high and that's why his brain only manages to think about one certain thing now. When Jason turns and walkes back to him, Michael can't supress a deep sigh. It's not like he wouldn't have gained back any control, but seemingly it's not fully back yet.  
„What happened?“, Jason asks again, kneeling down in front of the demon, though he has a certain guess what might have happened.

  
„Me…“, Michael says flatly, shrugging and brushing his fingertips over one of Jasons tighs, „…I know you're guarding the camp and it's creatures, but I just wasn't able to hold it back anymore.“.

  
Staring down to the fingers slowly carressing up and down his thigh, drawing closer and closer to the inner side, it takes a while for Jason to answer: „I do, but…I think the camp will get over one dead deer. But why did it happen?“. The slow stroking suddenly stops and his demon avoids his gaze. Maybe he should guess what caursed the violent outburst. It's not that he wouldn't have an idea already. „The nightmare?“, he asks eventually and hits the mark. Michael gives him a nod, but keeps his gaze staring into the distance.

  
„Nothing of it will happen again. Not with me protecting you.“, Jason makes clear again, but he knows his devil might have to hear it a million times more until he really believes in it. Shifting closer, he carefully tips the demons head, making him meet his gaze. It's stunning how beautiful Michael looks, covered in blood and dirt. His eyes are displaying his discomfort about remembering the nightmare, but though they also sparkle with that special kind of shimmer, wich always shows up when Micheal does or thinks something gruesome. „You're beautiful.“, Jason mumbles, admiring the blood splattered mask.

  
„I'm not…“, the devil sighs deeply and rolls his eyes, „…I'm whorish and know how to be tempting, maybe that's what you meant…“.

  
While maneuver Michael into a lose embrace, Jason insists sternly, shaking his head no. „I know what I meant and I meant beautiful...“, he leaves no space to argue against it, „…Especially like this.“. Michael tries to hold it back, but eventually he's not able to supress a snarl. Hearing Jason chuckle while the big guy burries his face to his blood stained shoulder, lets him smile either. He still hates slushy shit, still feels his stomache do a flip when Jason gets all sloppy, but somehow it feels good as well. _Perhaps becaurse it pushes my ego_., he muses while allowing Jason to shift closer and nestle between his legs. For several minutes, they only enjoy being close to each other in silence. With his mind deciding to play tricks on him and bring back everything he just wanted to forget or at least repress, it's nice to only rest in his big buddys arms without talking about the whole mess he is. Even the mean voice of his mind is all silent right now. When he speaks again, his voice is small and insecure, but though he had planned to say it at least once a day: „I love you.“.

  
Jasons embrace shifts even closer and he nuzzles his face further into the crook of the demons neck. „Love you too“, he replys muffled. There's nothing better in this world as when Michael says the three magical words. Not only becaurse of their meaning, no, Jason also exactly knows how special it is for the demon to say it. So, it's twice as good and holding the smooth body close to him, slowly drowning in Michaels scent mixed with the fresh blood makes it even better.

  
Michael chuckles smugly when he feels a shiver run through the big body. He started to gently bite Jasons neck while his hands sneaked under the jacket and shirt, adoringly stroking over the exposed spine. „Feels good?“, he asks teasingly, chuckling again when Jason only gives him a rapid nod and a grunt, the cold hands clenching at his back. The devil draws back and though Jason insists with an unagreeing litte growl, the next second he agrees much with what happenes. Trading hungry kisses back and forth, it's only his willpower what avoids him from pinning the demon down and pound him until he forgets his own name. He's mine., he thinks and voices it by telling Michael, no one will ever touch him again, expect for him.  
One part of Michael adores the thought of his big boy owning him, the other asks him if he possibly hit his head while wrestling down the deer. No one will ever own him again, he just needs to stay in controll and won't let anybody gain that much of power over him again. _But Jason isn't like this_. No, Jason treats him as if he is a precious piece of art. If it were possible he porbartely would even shrink wrap him in plastic and never take him out again. The big guy won't exploit his power over him and as unpleasant it is, he has much of it. „I'm yours…“, he mumbles absently with his head resting back to the trunk, displaying his neck and Jason tenderly making his way down to his collarbone with a row of light kisses. Screw the fucktart who had teached him to not trust anyone and how dangerous it is to give in to someone. He's save with Jason, the big guy protects him and as kind hearted as he is, he would never use his power to harm him, for sure.

  
„Mine…“, the deep voice emphasis. The blood of the dear has seeped through the fabric of the overall and while slowly circeling one nipple with his tongue, Jason is able to taste it on the demon, mixed with his very own taste. It makes him groan low, but the cry Michael exhales when his tongue flicks over the tiny nub, drowns him easily. „Feels good?“, he asks amusedly, grinning a playfull and wide smile. Michael may be the absolut king of driving someone crazy, but thanks to him, Jason isn't to be detested anymore either.

  
His question never gets answered, but he couldn't care less about it. Sucking the demons nipple eagerly, Michaels hips start moving absently and that's enough of an answer. Between Michaels pleassure filled whimpers and moans, suddenly something slips past his lips what lets Jason stop and look up at him frowning. „Please…don't leave me.“

  
_Where's that comming from again all of a sudden?_ , the bigger slashers wonders and is about to reassure his demon right away, but gets interrupted. „I…I need you…“, Michael confesses shakily, „…It's so awfull and I feel like a greedy bitch, but I need you.“.

  
For a few moments it takes Jasons speech away. He's frozen and just stares into the pleading black eyes, feeling his throat thighten and his heart sink. It's sad that behind the cold, arrogant and smug facade, Michael thinks so low of himself. It's that perverts fault!, he thinks, feeling his temper rise promptly. But now's not the time and as hard as it is, he swallows it down. „You're not greedy or whatever nonsense you think of…“, Jason eventually says and cups the half masked face gently between his cold hands, „…And I won't leave you. Never, no matter what happenens. How could I? You think I wouldn't need you? I do…so much, sometimes it even scares me.“.  
Nervsawing seconds pass by until Michaels gaze finally shows off he believes him. Placing his hands on the broad chest he whispers: „Honestly, I'm yours.“.

  
„Mine.“, Jason agrees again, smiling softly and feeling his heart getting freed from the weight of his worries. He remembers what they were doing when Michael pulls him into another lingering kiss, the slender hands shoving his jacket off and moving his shirt up. Only to take it off, he parts from the devils warm lips and as soon as it's thrown somwhere next to them, Jason continues where he had stopped. It's almost too much to listen to the devils low moans and the cry he gives when Jason carefully takes use of his teeth as well, makes his trapped cock twitch in interest. Grinding against Michael, the demon wraps his legs around his waist. „Make me yours.“, he moans, sending a burning sensation through Jasons entire body straight into his groin. Michael may be totally submissive right now, but the sneaky shit knows exactly what to say to make him lose controll. It takes awkwardly long to open is pants and get the devil out of this damn overall, his cold hands acting faster than his lust clouded brain works. No one ever managed to make him headless like this! When the slender hands are coming to his help, Jason feels prickling heat rise into his cheeks by the small snicker the demon tries to supress. _You're so fucking embarrassing!,_ he curses inwardly, also blaming Michael for being such a iresistable tease.

  
When the offending fabric finally isn't in the way anymore, it takes not even a second until slicky, cold fingers push their way further and further inside the demon. He knows well by now how to drive Michael nuts and enjoys his mates unrestrained reactions when pulling his fingers out almost fully and rapidly shoving them in again. With every hit the demons cries get louder and he meets the fingers harder, thrusting to get them as deep inside as possible. There isn't another sight more arousing than his devil falling apart underneath him. He would've never thought to enjoy this kind of closeness so much, but since Michael showed it to him, it's like he gets more and more addicted with every time. Specially since the demon luckily decided to give up a certain part of controll and offers himelf willingly. It triggers something deep inside Jason, an urge he didn't even know it was there, but all he wants when it arises is to turn his love into a panting and shaking mess, making him forget everything else.

  
The demon throws his head back and a lustfilled growl rumbles through his throat, when the cold fingers hit the exact right spot. Jason may isn't the brightest light bulb in the house, but he sure has a natural talent for making him feel as if he's about to pass out, giving him exactly what he needs, when he needs it and how. Whimpering when the coldness leaves him, Michael hasn't to renounce for long. Allready slicked up, Jason slides into him teasingly slow, letting them both feel every entering inch. He pauses when he's fully burried in the incredible heat, knowing Michael enjoys it highly getting opened up and just feeling filled up to the stop. For him it feels as if the demons heat melts him and they would be able to merge entirely. That thought alone is enough to increase his want, not to speak about the constant low purring of the devil. Pushing against him, Michael makes sure the pulsing length is sunk as deep as possible. It drives him crazy to feel Jasons puls beat inside him. Details he would give a rats ass about with anybody else, but with Jason he wants to feel everything, no matter how weak or tiny.

  
„Only mine…“, Jason moans low, when Micheals hips start to move, getting slightly impatient and asking him to move as well. Grabbing the talented hips firmly and hindering them from keeping on moving, Jason takes up a slow pace. Pulling out only the tip remains inside, he pushes in again slowly, making sure Michael clearly feels every inch, over and over. It doesn't takes long for the devil to get even more impatient and though Jasons nails dig into his flesh, he rocks his hips again. His big buddy grins, knowing very well Michael needs a much roughter pace, but teasing him is just too tempting to give in to the needy movements immediately. And he also knows damn well, how much Michael enjoys the slow and gentle torture. He had told him, the longer he had to wait, the better it felt when he finally got what he needed. Who is he to deny the demons wish?

  
Eventually Jason snaps his hips forth, getting rewarded with an almost animalistic cry and the devils nails digging deep into his back. „Better?“, he asks slinding out and ramming back in again. Judging the demons reactions, it definitely is more than better. Michael nods, clinging to Jason as to a lifebelt. „Don't…don't stop.“, he manages to plead while burrying his face to the broad frame and not able to silence another cry feeling Jason thrusting in deep and hard again. With every thrust a shudder runs through him, caursing him to dig his nails even deeper into the soft rotting flesh. It must be bleeding by now and Jason really enjoys the burning pain spreading across his back. If Michael claws even harder into him, he possibly digs his fingers into his back.

  
Keeping up the rought and fast pace, it doesn't takes long for the devil to ballance on the edge of his release. One more hit to his special spot and he certainly explodes. And exploding he does, arching his back and pushing as hard against his big boy as possible, he gets lost in white burning pleassure. There's no way to hold back his loud moaning and neither is he able to stop crying out his mates name while Jason doesn't slows down a bit and keeps on pounding him. It's shortly before Michael gets unbearable oversensitiv, his muscles already contracting uncontrollably, when the thrusts suddenly stop and Jason burries himself into him as deep as it may goes. His low voice groals rumblingly, sending vibrations through their both bodies and the demon enjoys feeling the big guys cock pump his cold load into him. „So good…“, he mutters breathly, enjoying the last deep but now gentle thrusts with wich his big boy fucks his load even deeper inside him. _He knows me well_., he muses, smiling satisfiedly. When Jason tries to draw away, he keeps hold of him. „Mine…only mine.“, Jason babbles, resting his head on Micheals shoulder, panting, but willingly giving him what he requires. _Just a little longer…_ , the bigger slasher thinks, wrapping his arms around the still slightly shaking demon.


	20. Crazy, Sick, Insain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, no I haven't given up writing this fic and it probartely is the best if I don't even start to explain the huge delay. It includes a death, me slicing my fingers with an electrical hedge trimmer, a horse kicking me, my phone deciding to overwrite three chapters...Like I said, I better don't even start to explain...However, here's chapter 20, yaaay! I hope you don't hate me too much now xD The next two chapters are almost done and we're nearing the end of the fic.
> 
> Enjoy <3

Sitting on the sofa, Jason watches his little self and little Michael crouching on the floor near the fireplace, obviously discussing something of high importance. Well it seems like, caurse their arguing and gesturing lively. Sometimes Michael facepalms, sometimes Jason sights deeply and shakes his head and in between they're babbling, but he hasn't the concentration to follow their conversation. With his head resting in his palm, absently watching the kids, all he can think of and everything possesing his mind is his demon. He misses him so much, it physically hurts. It's like one of Michaels blades tearing right into his heart and to make it more interesting, it gets twisted slowly and constantly.

  
It's been one week now since he's alone with the small ones. Never in his life had one week felt so damn long and he had spent a great ammount of time trapped under water! Every day seemed like having at least fortyeight hours and every passing minute had been the worst torture. But it's his own fault, he knows. It had went so stupid, so fucking stupid. He with his babblemouth and his goddamn dumb and slow brain! It hurts so strong that Michael left, but he can't blame him, he's to blame only himself. Sighting deeply and shoving his hands under the mask, rubbing his face, Jason desperately whishes time traveling would be real. If it were, he would slap his self straight into the face before he could sneak into the demons mind. _He'll never forgive me._ , he thinks, feeling as if every other emotion expect for deep sadness got vanished from inside him. A sad frown appears behind his hands, remembering how he had managed to evict the only one who is like him, the only one he would willingly give his life for if it were possible and the only one treating him not like a monster.

  
It had happened the day when Michael slashed the deer. After a while, still burried into the pleasant heat of the demon, Michael had started to more or less burble about his nightmare. It had been more mumbling than talking and was mostly ripped out of the context, Jason had some trouble to follow the demons descriptions. Neverthless he had listened to the muttered words and only drew away when Michael let him out of his death grip. Switching places he had leaned his back against the trunk, exhaling a relieved sigh when being able to stretch out his legs. To crouch on the woods ground for nearly two hours he obviously is too old for. His knees were yelling at him that he's a dump jerk, but being with Michael had been compensation enough. However, next time they possibly should chose a more comfortable place.

  
Strocking up and down Michaels bare back while his other arm had been wrapped around the slim waist, holding his love close, the incoherent mumbling had continued. The more Michael talked, the closer he had nuzzled to Jason, seeking shelter in his big boys embrace. Trying to reassure the uneasyness building up inside the demon, Jason had also started to talk. Thinking about it now, he should've just kept his stupid mouth shut and let Michael speak until he would've had thrown out everything rushing through his head. But no, oh no, he had to open up his big mouth and paired with a slightly too slow brain, it had been a fatal combination. Add his still blown state, caurse of their earlier shared pleasure and it's one hundred percent sure nothing good could come out of it.  
With his head still clouded and his mouth faster than his brain Jason had said: „He won't lay a hand on you again. Even if you hadn't killed him, I wouldn't allow that he touches you like this again.“. And he had immediately known that he had said too much. As soon as the words had left his lips, he tensed, desperately wishing he could catch them and shove them back down his throat. Michael had been as blissed as he was, but it hadn't effected his supiciousness in the slightest. „What do you mean?“, he had asked, lifting his head and forced Jason to look him in the eyes. _Fuck_ …, Jason thought, hectically searching for a reasonable excuse. Suddenly his damn big mouth had been slower than his brain, how practical and he had only managed to stutter while several different emotions crossed the gaze of the black eyes within seconds. „I asked what the fuck you mean!“, the demon had growled at him and feeling slender hands resting on his chest curl into fists, Jason had known deadly sure that he was screwed. He could’ve had tried to talk himself out of it, but facing a pro in lying, it most likely wouldn't had been sucessfull. With Michael staring him down and a mixture of pure anxiety and unbeliveable heavy guilt, he had eventually confessed. „I just wanted to help, Michael…“, he had said after telling what he had done, shame and regret mercilessly washing over him. And it came worse. Michael hadn't snapped or began to yell or hit his head into the trunk over and over again in a raging tantrum as Jason had expected. No, the devil even hadn't moved an inch while listening to the confession, but his gaze stopped to give away what he had been feeling or thinking. It had went empty as if he would see right through him. Michael being all silent and still, had made Jasons skin crawl. The demon had the potential to rage like an area fire, but getting so silent and unreadable couldn’t mean something good, not even near it.

  
Drawing away and calmly putting the overall back on and his heavy boots, Michael had remained silent. „I really just wanted to help, please believe me.“, Jason had pleaded, absolutely not caring how pathetic he sounded while getting more and more nervous by the demons unusual silence. It would've had been easier to deal with a meltdown and with getting jumped, but the silence? It felt like liquid lead filling the bigger slashers whole body. Lacing the boots, Michael had said he believes it, still all calm and easy. His voice not giving away the slightest hint of anger or madness, not even a pissed undertone.   
„But you know what I also believe in and you should too?...“, he had asked not meeting Jasons worried gaze instead bowing his head and wrapping his arms thightly around himself, „…That it's over.“.

  
Jason almost cried out like a wounded animal hearing the small and quiet words. It had felt like a bullet ripping a huge bleeding hole right into his chest. „Michael, please…“, he had tried, reaching out for the devil, but the smooth body backed away immediately as if in expection of terrible pain to come. „No…just-just don't…“, Michael had stopped him, still not looking at him. The gaze of the black eyes had been fixed to the ground and emptyness spreaded even more in it. It had made Jason feel like the worst bastard walking the face of earth for betraying the demon so bad and when Michael just turned without saying anything else, as good as somebody could've had ripped his heart right out of his chest and stomped it into the ground. Eventually Michael had given a tiny hint of the anger forming inside him, when Jason had tried to stop him from just leaving. „Don't dare.“, the demon had snarled, the shimmer of contempt clearly shown in his eyes and the mad growl in his voice making Jason stopping his attempts right away. With that, Michael had left, vanishing into the depths and the dark of the forest as if he had never been there.

  
Two days later the demon had returned to the cabin, but the blooming hope of the bigger slasher, that maybe they could make up again, got destroyed quickly. Michael hadn't said a single word, only grabbed a few books and the second of his knifes. He hadn't even once looked at Jason and though the water spirit had remained silent as well and tried to stay calm, inside he broke over and over again. Not only becaurse of the demons rejecting behavior, also caurse even if he wasn't speaking, his aura had been more than meaningful. Knowing that he had been responsible for the sad and hurt emotions radiating from his demon, had been more worse as if Michael would've stabbed him or beat him up. And the worst of it…he wouldn't be able to do something about it. It had been his fault, solely his fault and there was nothing he could do to make up for it.

  
Such a great break of trust, how should he be able to fix this? He isn't. Michaels trust in him had been a very sensitive and tender plantlet and he had stomped onto it like the rude tank he is. There's nothing to bring it back to life again. _He hates me.,_ he thinks, sighting deeply and feeling tears prickel in the corners of his eyes. And not only Michael certainly hates him, he does as well. For being stupid, too pressing, reckless, just the fucking dump and raw shit he is.

  
\----------------

  
Fortunately, on the other side of the lake, there are a few more cabins and one of them gave Michael shelter. Most of all, he only wanted to leave the camp, leave it's residents and never come back again, but to his great amusement he still couldn't. He had tried, thinking maybe something had changed, but nope. Crossing the border, he got send back in the middle of the forest as usual. But at least, he's able to avoid Jason, staying far away from the other side of the lake. Though the big guy roams the camp daily, to Michaels relieve, the past week he hadn't showed up anywhere near the demons new home. He just can't stand the other slashers company right now. Going back to get at least some books and his other knife had been hard enough. It had been hard enough to ignore Jason and the small ones, treating them like thin air, when everything he actually wanted was to hide into a strong embrace again. The lump inside his throat had felt as if he was about to suffocate and only vanished when he had been back in his cabin again.

  
After seven days all alone, though he actually should be used to be alone, it feels like the last piece of sanity left him and as if he's about to hatch up something. It can't be. He's immortal and the last time he had the flu or something, he had been a kid. Still, his body feels weak and wrenched and most of the time the demon just sits at a window staring outside or lays on the bed, curled up thight and staring at the wooden wall. His mental state obviously begins to effect his body and not being close to Jason anymore also lets the voices come back, not only the single one he heard since a few weeks, but all the others as well. They're all back and they're even louder as before. Telling him he's scum, telling him it just had to go down the drain, that nobody is able to deal with him for long and that they're the only company he‘ll ever have.

  
Hell, he could slap himself straight into the face over and over again for being so god damn stupid! Maybe he would be able to beat some sense into his messed up head. What was he thinking, knocking over all his rules, allowing Jason to come so close and even trust him?! Perhaps it had been the desperate wish to be at peace and save with someone what made him uncautios. And he had felt save with Jason. He had and he doesn't only blames the big guy. Dealing with someone so twisted and fucked up as he is must be difficult and Jason had done better as he had ever dared to expect. Most people would‘ve left him after a few days, but Jason had shown surprisingly big endurance. But in the end the voices are right. Even Jason, who's so similar to him, isn't able to deal with him for long. Still he believes the big guy just wanted to help. What else should he do than seeing for himself to deal with the whole mess the devil is? It's not alone Jasons fault, it's also his. _Some time it gets too hard even for the most patient_ …, he guesses sadly, blaming himself.

  
But as much understanding he has for the big guy, he can't shove away the feeling of betrayal. He trusted him, trusted him fully and Jason sneaked behind his back, abused his rare trust. Since getting aware of it, the voices had also told him several times he wasn't supposed to trust anyone. And that's right as well. At least, when there's no trust and he expects everything, he's prepared. He himself can't be trusted, why should he be allowed to trust anyone?   
Though he thinks he has no right to feel as he does, the pain inside is the most intense he had ever felt. Not only becaurse he misses the bigger slasher, their bond and the cold, comforting embraces, also becaurse he gave something he had never given to anyone before though better knowledge, thinking Jason could never betray his trust and just being naive and dump. There's guilt, heavy and breathtaking guilt that picks and gnaws at him.

  
Pulled together into a thight ball and staring out to the lake through a dusty window, Michael even misses the kids. Christ, what the hell is wrong with him?! Actually he should feel good being all alone and having some peace, but all he feels is pain and lonelyness. He misses little Jason with his unbelieveable innocence and kind heart, his big boy with his clumsyness and being thick as a brick and even his little self being all nervsawing and smug. God, even washing their damn clothes every day, caurse they‘re always dirt stained from head to toe! Exhaling a deep sigh, Michael hides his face to his drawn up knees. His head feels so fucking heavy and trapped in thoughts about Jason and the kids, tears burn in his eyes. It hurts, everything hurts so much, but though it's almost not bareable, he can't just act as if nothing had happened and just go back. No, he‘ll probartely never be able to go back again. Nothing will be as it was before ever again and even if he dies of his heartache, there's no way he could let Jason near him. Espacially not, that the broad guy now knows about his past completely.

  
\-----------------

  
Night fell and Jason is laying in bed, flat on his back with his hands foldet on his chest and staring to the ceiling. He doesn't knows how long he's laying there, brooding about the demon. Maybe a few minutes, maybe a few hours. Since Michael left, he hadn't slept much. Usually he's able to sleep even if bombs are falling, but the abscene of his demon obviously is worse than falling bombs. No matter how often he tries, everytime he closes his eyes he sees the demon, sees what he'll miss his entire immortal life from now on and the feeling of heavy sadness filling him hasn't let him sleep for longer than a few minutes at once. Tracing the wood pattern on the ceiling with his eyes, he wonders if Michael is able to sleep. A jolt of worry strikes him when imagine the demon having a nightmare or better the nightmare while being all alone. The cold hands clench to each other and he grits his teeth, just wanting to run over and check if his devil is ok.

  
Hearing a noise from downstairs pushes his worries to the back of his mind. His breathing stops aprubtly and listening, he sits up slowly, trying to be as quiet as he can. The kids? Possible…little Jason has the same deep and firm sleep he has, but little Michael often wakes up. _Nightmares_ , he muses, knowing Michael had always been struggling with bad dreams and insomnia. Swinging his legs out of the bed and making his way to the hall in complete darkness, Jason isn't even annoyed that he has to get up. He can't sleep a fucking second anyway and drowning in his sad thoughts is doable downstairs either. Letting his hand slide over the smooth wood of the stairs rail while sneaking down as quiet as he can with the constant squeeking of the old wood, he sees dim light coming from the kitchen. Maybe he got hungry? But passing the couches and carefully gropeing in the dark, the little ones both are sound asleep. Immediately Jasons wards are all up and pausing by the sofa where his small self is peacefully sleeping on, he listens to the quiet noises again.

_Who the fuck?_ , he wonders, knowing it definitely isn't Michael. He would've sensed his presence even without any noises and the presence inside the dim light room certainly feels completely different. Looking at his empty hands, he realizes the machete is still upstairs, neatle settled between the bed and the nightstand. Great! But he hadn't expected to need it, guessing one of the kids is running around. However, if that someone dancing around in his cabin will try something funny, he's got no problems with ripping a head off with only his bare hands.

  
Sneaking closer to the kitchen door, pushed to the wall, he wonders how it comes he hasn't sensed someone coming here earlier. The aura sure isn't as strong as the demons is and it doesn't triggers him the way the ones of the stupid mortals do, but he should've sensed it. Only imagine someone could harm the kids during the night lets a cold shiver run down his spine. He would never forgive himself and the worries paired with his protective instincts and territoriality, gets the best of him. Enough of sneaking and hiding in the dark! The broad frame dashes into the half light room, exhaling a deep growl to scare the brazen intruder and make who ever it is know it had been deadly stupid to come here.

  
A small men is standing in front of the counter, wearing a beige coat, his back turned to Jason. No matter his angry growl, the stranger doesn't turns, no not even flinches. What a blatancy! Reaching out, Jason is just about to grab the mens neck and force him to face him, his hand only an inch away, when a calm voice speaks to him: „You should calm down a little, Jason.“. Hearing his name makes the slasher pause midair.

The hell is that guy and why does he knows his name??

„Solving problems with violence won't always work.“, the men says, turning around holding a steaming cup. Totally calm he stirs the coffee he just stole, **STOLE** , from Jasons kitchen, seemingly not even surprised in the slightest to face the lifing dead. Before he can say anything, the guy walkes past him and takes a seat at the table. It would be a lie to say Jason is suprised, no he's fuddled, absolutely and totally fuddled. Staring in disbeliefe with his both brows up high and his hand still pausing in the air, he eventually asks growling: „Who're you?!“.

  
With the same impudent calmness the men sips on his coffee and after putting the mug down, falts his hands resting on the table top. „My name's Dr. Loomis…“, he introduces himself, eyening the big and bewildered guy still standing at the counter closely, „…So you are Jason. I was looking forward to meet you.“.

  
The gears in Jasons head start to run on full speed and rattle loud in his ears when he hears that name. _Sanatorium_ …, it crosses his mind sending his temper higher. „You're the one who drugged him and kept him locked up!“, he roars, approaching the Doctor again. A fast backhand smashes the steaming mug from the table and while it shatteres on the wooden floor, the Doc gets grabbed by the collar of his coat. „We had to. He's a danger for others and himself…“, he explains still keeping rediculously calm even when getting pulled up forcefully and being nose to nose with the rotting giant, „…You may think of it as something gruesome, but we had to keep him and others safe. You know what he is…and though I always tried to help him.“.

  
„Help?“, Jason can't do else than to outright spit. How should getting drugged and locked up help?! Turning he pushes Loomis flat onto the table top, bending the small mens back right to the point before the spine would give in. Still there's no yelling, no fear, no resistance and it makes him furious! Who the hell does that smug little bastard think he is?! „You tormented him!“, the deep voice roars again. Grabbing the Docs hip with his free hand, Jason is just about to use the tables edge to break the spine into half, when a small voice lets him pause again. Giving the Doc a _don't you even think of pulling something_ -glare, he lets go of him and turns his attention to the open kitchen door.

„Who's he?“, little Michael asks, his voice sleepy, rubbing his eyes. Jason aproaches him and kneels down: „No one. Go back to sleep, everything's fine.“.

  
„You need my help?“

  
„No. I'll take care of him, you go back to sleep.“, the slasher chuckles. Still he's amused by the little ones courage. Certainly he would even fight him if challenged. Waving at Jason tiredly, small Michael heads back to bed, stumbling sleepdrunkenly. Probartely he thinks he's just dreaming, not entirely awake as he is.

The moment the door's closed and Jason turns back to Loomis, who looks at him with an unreadable expression on his face and straightens his coat, the slasher stalkes back to the table, smashing his fist onto it. Again, the Doctor doesn't even twitches a brow and slowly but steadily his attitude drives Jason crazy. „What do you want?!“, he growls, wondering why he not just snaps the Docs neck and goes back to bed, though he won't catch any sleep. There's something stopping him, it's not pity or anything, he won't start feeling pity for humans. It's something else, but though he doesn't kills the man immediately, doesn't means he won't later. Loomis, still wearing that nervsawing pokerface waves a hand to a chair: „Why don't we take a seat and talk?“.

  
\------------------

  
Michael isn't able to drown in his thoughts all by himself anymore as well. One hand grabbing an axe, wich threatened to strike between his neck and shoulder, he's stunned about the old ladys strenghts. He's only using one arm, but though he hadn't expected such a force behind the strike and even now, she tries to push the blade closer. Does he wonder about the visit? No. He's at camp freak-show after all, where everything's possible no matter how screwy it is. Would make a good slogan!

  
He had drifted in and out of a restless slumber when a voice made him almost jump out of his curled up position. „You have to be Michael.“, it had said, sounding warm and kind, but stern. _Gosh, one day I'll get a heartattack here._ , the demon had thought fully certain, turning around to find an elderly lady standing right in the middle of the room. She had blond, curly hair, cut short and neatly combed. Her face round and soft, just looking like one of the old, nice ladies lifing next door, giving you candy. Surveying her, dressed in a light grey, wool roll collar pullover and dark brown slags, it had been one special detail catching Michaels full attention. Holding an axe in her right hand, it looked slightly funny considering her small hight and the lenght of the axes handle and the demon had been decently impressed she was even able to carry the heavy tool.

  
After quizing her closely, he eventually had replied: „Yeah, I suppose I have to…“, the demon had pinched the bridge of his nose and sighted deeply, already feeling an immens rush of annoyence rise, „…and you are?“. The last thing he had wanted, was someone visiting him while he already felt like shit. If he couldn't be with Jason, he rather wanted to be alone. Well, how alone someone can be with at least ten additional personas lifing inside his head. Under the demons unamused gaze, she had approached him and squared her shoulders. Keeping a safe distance she gave him an unpleased and stern look of her own: „I'm Mrs. Voorhees. Jasons mother.“. Her eyes had sparkled, showing of nothing but pride when mentioning her sons name. While it's sound had made her motherly pride grow wide, Michael twitched hearing it spoken to him. _Jason_ …, he had mused, getting grabbed by lifesucking yearning for a few seconds. But he couldn't show it off in front of her. Only Lucifer knows what she wants and before knowing for sure, the demon won't give away anything.

  
Nodding and humming his agreement, Michael hadn't even wondered getting confronted with his big guys mother. _Camp freak-show_., he had reminded himself. There were already the two younger versions of them, why not their mothers as well? Though he urgently hoped his won't show up.

„Uumm, well…nice to meet you then, I guess.“, the demon hadn't tried to hide the disinterest out of his voice. Oh, and momma Voorhees hadn’t been all to amused about it. First her brows had rose high, then knitted, letting her appear at least fifteen years older and fifty percent more mean. „It would be even nicer if you wouldn't have been such a bad influence on my son...“, Michal hadn't been able to supress his grin getting called a bad influence, „…I raised him to be a decent guy and you dragged him into your little, dirty world. You should be ashamed of yourfelf!“.

  
It's been years, nah decades! Since Michael had got a roasting and smiling smugly, he had straigthened up to his full high right in front of her, towering her. She hadn't seemed all too worried to Michaels slight disappointment, but let alone their rediculous difference in size had made up for it. _So he's got the hight from his father,_ the devil guessed while looking down to the women. She barely reached up to his chest, but neverthless she hadn't backed away only an inch. „Honestly, there hadn't been much of dragging. No, actually he followed me willingly…“, bending down he got face to face with her, „…And I've never felt like he had disliked it. Seemingly he's not as decent as you thought him to be.“.

  
The resounding slap he got in response had definitely been worth it. No, he hadn't been able to hold back his snappy and cocky side, specially not when challenged by someone with such a twisted perception. Why can't they see? You have to think everyone capable of anything, no matter if family or not. He had got a taste of it his own again! Everybody is guilty, no matter of what. „Don't you dare to talk about him like that.“, she hissed, pointing a threatening finger straight into his face. Though the demon had to clench his fists hard and grit his teeth, he had tried to hold back and supress the urge to grab her and punch her head into one of the cabins walls until she would get limp. „You're lucky I still feel slightly positive about your son and he most likely won't appreciate me hurting you…“, he had growled pitching an equally warning tone, „….Otherwise I would tear you apart right now.“.

  
Staring at each other, none of them had even thought about withdrawing a bit. Michael hadn't the slightest interest in backing away, already fully in argue mode and Pamela had been eager to fight her precious boys honor and with that her own. The arm holding the axe twitched when she spoke up again: „I won't allow your lewd attitude to effect him further. I think it's best if you just dissappear out of his life and to get sure that it's definite, I possibly should play it safe.“. Her voice had been so serious and stern, everyone else would‘ve run away as fast and far as possible and Michael slowly got a guess why Jason always did what she had told him, but he certainly had dealt with worser beings than her. Considered to his father, the old lady is a bad joke and fittingly his answer is joined by a knowing chuckle: „Do as you please, but I fear I have to dissapoint you. I can't die. Many tried, including myself, but still I'm here.“.

  
„Worth a try!“

  
And with that she swings the axe and while holding against it, Michael is delighted by her strenght and speed. He pushes, letting go of the handle and making her stumble backwards. She possibly would've hit a wall if he would've used his whole strenght, but like he said, actually he doesn't wants to hurt her, well doesn't wants to upset the big guy. She's his mother after all and though they broke up, he won't do anything what would make Jason sad or hurt him. He wanted to. Oh, he wanted to so badly during the first few days! The need to hurt the big guy just as much as he had hurt him got almost overwhelming, but after the first wave of anger, disappointment and the wish for revange ebbed down, it left only sadness and loneliness behind. He doesn't wants to pay back anymore, all he wants is to return to his mate, but though he longes for him so enormously, he can't shove away the betrayal.

  
Seeing the next strike comming, the demon shifts to the side, with his forearm he blocks the following strikes, the handle of the axe crashing hard to his bones. He has a certain ammount of patience, he really has, but slowly his limits of tolerance are reached. There's less he can do and it possibly would be best to grab her by the hair and hit her head to the wall only once. Though she'll be knocked out, she won't be injured too badly. He reaches out, but she ducks away and with a swift move, she's suddenly behind him. Michael already expects to feel the blade of the axe tear into his spine, but instead the handle gets rammed between his shoulder blades, sending him forward. _Obviously Jason has got the clumsyness from his father either.,_ he thinks smiling slightly though the pain running up and down his back. Neverthless he finds the visit annoying as fuck, being confronted with someone as agile as he is has something refreshing.

  
„Respect Lady…“, he caughts, turning to face her, „…No wonder Jason always did what you told him, I see you can be very convincing.“.

  
He has barely the time to fully turn when she jumps torwards him again, swinging the axe with ease. The blade crashes into the wall behind him, missing his face only by an inch. She snarls angrily, tugging at the axe trying to pull it free, but the demons hand around her throat stops her attempts. He swirls around and smashes her into the wall, pressing all air out of her lungs, holding her up by her throat. She gags, gasps and trashes around, her eyes watering and Michael has to remind himself to stop when she'll fall unconscious. It's hard to. Her face turns pink... red… a light shade of purple and in her eyes some of the tiny vains pop coloring the white of her eyeballs with a red pattern. He feels her pulse slowing down beneath his palm and it's tempting. It's so tempting to continue until the moment he can feel how he literally squeezes the life out of her. The gagging stops and the trashing creases while his grip thightens once more, squeezing while the demon closely watches every single reaction her body displays. It's only the door of the cabin flying open with a loud bang, that prevents he gives in to his urges.

  
Her body falls to the floor giving a dull thud when Michael turns again. He doesn't has to look to know Jason is there. His aura is filling the empty air of the cabin and Michael can smell him, every sense working on full power. „Michael!“, the low voice yells cracking into a whimper. Jason rushes past him, crouching down on the floorboards and cradling the limp body of his mother into his arms, patting her face. He's mumbling mom over and over again and Michael is about to tell him she's only knocked out when another voice sounds up, letting the demon tense up thight. „I told you he can't be left alone.“, it says, a simple and calm sentence but it brings Michaels blood to boil immediately. Jason can't react as fast as it happens. He hears a scream, animalistic and filled up with pure rage to the brink and Michaels body jumping forward is only a dark blurr in the corner of his eyes. Bodies crashing to the ground, growling and a blade tearing into flesh. Michael is straddling the smaller body underneath and his knife slashes down again and again, every stab joined by an angry roar. He can't feel the blood splattering all over him, can't feel how the blade forces it's way through flesh, bones and organes. There's only the raging of a unstoppable fire left, blinding and numbing him while it devours him with neck and crop.

It takes a moment to feel the cold hand resting on his shoulder and hear the deep voice talking to him. „He's dead, Michael.“, it sounds so far away and his knife rushes down a few times more before it manages to pull him out of the flames.  
The demon twitches and shruggs off Jasons hand. „Don't touch me!...“, he hisses standing up and bringing some space between them, „What has he done? Fumbled around in your head and convinced you that little, loony Michael needs a nanny, did he?!“. The words are spit at him with so much venom, Jasons answer dies in his throat. He only manages to stutter a quiet No before Michaels voice raises again and the anger of the devil focuses on him. „He has! But I don't need a nanny, there's nothing anyone could do!“.

  
While he slowly sneaks closer to the lifing dead, inside Michaels head all the voices talk at once. No, not talking, yelling, shouting, screaming, so loud he isn't able to hear his own thoughts anymore. „Crazy…“, one step, „…Sick…“, second step, „…Insain…“, third step and with that there's only a thin layer of air left between them. The demons hands come to rest on Jasons chest, still holding the bloody knife. „I am…“, his smooth voice breathes and Jason indeed can see it inside the dark eyes, „…and I'll show you just how much.“.  
And again everything happens so fast, Jason isn't able to comprehend what happenes. Only when he releases the machete out of his grip and stumbles back rigit by shock, he realizes what had just happened. The raised arm holding the knife slowly falls down to the demons side, his free hand leans to the wall in front of him holding him upright, right next to Pamelas head. She had gained consciousness again while the doctor faced his maker and though Michael dashed back to her, knife raised high, she hadn't backed away. Jason would never allow someone to harm her, she knows and she's right. Jason stares into her soft eyes while she smiles at him and nods slightly. _Good boy_ , it means and he would feel all the love and security he always has when she praised him, wouldn't the machete stick inside Michaels body. The demon gasps looking into the same soft eyes before his gaze shifts down. The tip of the blade is sticking out of his chest, rich red blood dripping down and flowing out of the wound, drenching his overall. The hand holding the knife raises slowly and he brushes his fingertips over the cool metal, smearing his own blood. Inside his head, now, only silence is left.

 


	21. Her name is Betty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually, I didn't intended to bring up an OC, but suddenly *poof* Betty had been born! She'll acompany the boys for a while :)
> 
> Ooh and ta-daaa here he is, the man you have been waiting for, Fredwart! *caughts* Freddy! :D xD
> 
> I don't know where I read it, but someone called him Fredwart and since then I just can't look at him without that name dashing through my head x'D

He felt sore when he woke up and opening his eyes. even for the briefest moment had been an almost undoable thing. His body felt like drained of all it's strenght and it seemed as if stones would push him down into the matress. For a good while, he hadn't been able to move at all and even after that while more than weakly lifting his hands or turning his head hadn't been managable. Michael doesn't knows how long he had layed there, absolutely clueless where he was, what had happened and hearing a constant beeping in the distance. The beeping had become clearer and closer, the longer he had layed there and with his other senses slowly comming around as well, he had been able to smell a just too familar scent and see a just too familar bright light through his half opened eyes. _The sanatorium,_ he thought still mostly trapped in a strong deliruim. Was he back, again. How could that be?!

  
When the door to the room slowly creacked open, he heared a female voice shout „He's back!“ and the next second he had been circled by several people. Someone lifted his eyelids and blinded him with a white burning light, but still unable to move much, there had been nothing he possibly could do exept for frowning, growling weakly and trying to squeeze his eyes shut. Someone changed the bag of the infusion sticking to him, another one scribbled something down on a clapboard, a voice told him to open up his eyes and try follow a finger and yet another one rattled with something wrapped around his wrists and ankles. He just saw the people in a white blurr, shuffling and shifting all around the room and panic grabbed him when he came around more and got certainer to be indeed back at the sanatorium. _It has to be a dream!_ , he had tried to reassure himself, though it hadn't seemed like a dream. But he had frightenly vivid dreams before, maybe this was only the next stage of madness his brain gifted him with during the nights.

  
Doomed to being unable to do something else he listened to the humans mumbling and walking around in the room. The urge to escape finally kicked in as his vision got clearer and he had been able to take in his surroundings more with all his senses. In contrary to his other dreams of the sanatorium, where he hadn't felt different than usual, this time his body felt so weak even breathing exhausted him. Neverthless, when his guts clenched and the unstoppable urge to get back to the camp as fast as possible hit him like a bullet, the demon pulled all his left strength together. But he shouldn't come far. He groaned and it took everything he got to lift his upperbody only an inch from the matress and even without a hand pressing him down again, he would've had fallen back soon. When the hand pushed on his body, right under his sternum, an intense pain shot through him. God, it had felt like the hand had clenched into a fist and smacked right through his skin and tissue into his guts, pinching his heart. It was just then he remembered the long blade pushing into his body and tearing it's way through him till it came out on the other side. He hadn't been able to hear the guy who was holding him down telling him he had to lay still and don't try to move.

  
No, suddenly his head had been spinning and he felt as if he would get swallowed by the ground opening up underneath him. He stabbed me…, he remembered, literally able to feel the cold metal of the machete force it's way into him again. Jason had stabbed him in an attempt to avoid him from murdering his mother. Laying there with his eyes squeezed shut and the annoying beeping in the background going rapid, he had remembered more and more about what had happened before he woke up. Images and memories were crashing down on him so fast, it had felt as if his brain would suffer a melt down. They all swirled around, making him feel like throwing up every second. If, he would suffocate on his own vomit, beeing pressed down to the mattress by that annoying oaf!

There had been gurgling noises pushing out of his throat when his mouth had filled with blood. The coppery taste still lingered on his tongue, he rememberd the warm feeling and how it had splattered everywhere when he coughted and choked on it. He had managed to turn around and face his big buddy. His eyes were wide, a mixture of terror and instant regret displaying in the rich blue. „Michael…Michael I'm sorry! You'll be fine, I promise! We'll fix it!“, Jason had stuttered panicly when the cold hands grabbed his upper arms firmly. Michael had been able to see the lifing deads massiv fear and that he immediately regretted what he had done. His hands slowly rose up, touching the long blade sticking right out of his chest. The strike had been so strong, the handle of the machete nearly touched his back and it's whole lenghts had puched through him, cutting and ripping his insides apart. His dark eyes slid up again, searching Jasons gaze while black dots began to dance in his vision.

  
He had felt his legs getting weak and buckling under him, the pool of his own blood getting bigger and bigger on the floor boards, but if they already were about to kill each other, he deserved at least one strike too. Right before his legs gave in completely, his right hand dashed up and the knife violently sank into the side of Jasons neck. His mate gasped and yelped, partly by surprise, partly becaurse of the pain. It had tore the big guys aorta and while holding on to the knifes handle and on to Jason with his other hand, Michael had felt the cold and thick blood spilling out of the wound, practically showering him and filling him with a certain satisfaction. There's no stabbing him without him stabbing back! His own legs hadn't been able to carry him anymore and they were already standing in a decent puddle of blood pooling on the floor when Jason began to sag as well. His love had still been holding on to him, when they both kneeled on the ground, slowly getting swallowed by the empty, but familar darkness of death. „I'm sorry…“, the deep voice had said muffled by the blood spilling out like a waterfall. „Don't be…“, the demon had replied not sure if Jason had understood him or just had heared some strange gurgle sounds, „…everything will be fine. We'll be fine. We‘ll always come back.“ After that, he had sagged down to the broad frame, his body slowly shutting down and it had just been Jason keeping him up right. His eyes slowly fluttered shut and his old companions grip around him got stronger and stronger with every exhausting breath he managed to take. He had been already almost gone when he felt Jason fall back, pulling his body with him, limp as a ragdoll. Laying on top of his dieing mate, the last thing he heared had been Jasons throaty, slowing down breathing and the last thing he felt had been the creasing rising and falling of the wide chest, while the big guys energy faded into nothing. After that, darkness and emptyness was everything left, enveloping him entirely. He wasn't gone, but he wasn't there either. Stucked somewhere in between, without a body, only existing in his mind and thoughts.

  
After Michael had come around fully again and the staff had been sure he was stable enough, the monitor got removed and finally the penetrating beeping subsided. Balm to his ears, but still they kept him fixated to the beds frame. It hadn't been necassary, even with the constant instinct to flee, he wouldn't have come far. Moving felt like in slowmotion and though a few hours already passed since he woke up, he hadn't been able to do much more than flex his fingers and tilt his head. They had left him alone a while ago and when the door had opened again, a young doctor walked in, he wasn't able to recognize. Must be a new one, maybe fresh from the university with his hopes still high. He had introduced himself, but Michael hadn't been able to care less about some piddling doctors name, still not sure what was going on. He still claimed all able to just be a fucked up dream. Yes, Jason had stabbed him, they both had died, but how had he ended up at the sanatorium again? Maybe he was laying somewhere in the woods, unconscious with his mind still trying to connect with his body again. Maybe even getting killed had been a dream and he was still dreaming. Maybe he would startle up any second, realizing he was still at the camp and nothing what happened at the sanatorium had been anywhere near to reality.

  
Honestly? The demon hadn't the strength left to keep on thinking about it all. He hadn't been able to wrap his mind around his situation and all the happenings, his brain still clouded and wrapped into a thick wall of fog. What the doc had told him after introducing himself only added to his confusion. First he had asked him if he knows his name. A question the devil hadn't even graced with a sideglance and only stared up to the white ceiling above him. When the young doc got he wouldn't receive an answer, he had cleared his throat, shifting akwardly and began babbling about Michael being in a coma since six month, how they hadn't been able to wake him, that he had been awake once, but fell back into the coma fast after he had tried to break free from the straps. He described the monitors showing his heartrate and bloodpressure sometimes rising intensly as if he would've had run a marathon though he motionslessly layed in bed and about strange injuries showing up on his body a few times. The latest, the big cut under his sternum and on his back. They had run a MRI and had discovered a pass channel through his body, connecting the two wounds as if something had been pushed through him. Rubbing his forehead nervously, the doc had said more to himself than to Michael that they had never seen something like this before and that they hadn't an explaination for anything that had happened. Not the coma, not the injuries. Every test they had run had been inconspicuous. No brain damage, no toxication, no infection, no rare or uncommom diseases, nothing. There had been absolutely no reason why he had fallen into a come at all and now such a long one.

  
Michael had listened closely, of course without replying, not even moving. Too much, it had been just too much and no matter how desperate he had tried to understand what he got told, it had been useless. He had felt so tired, so weak, so exhausted. Everything he wanted was to curl up at Jasons side and sleep, sleep, sleep, save in the presence of the water spirit. One should think after waking up out of a six month long coma, sleep should be the last thing the person would need, but as soon as the doc had finished his little storytime, the demons eyes had fallen shut as he curled up as much as the straps allowed it and immediately fell into an exhausted sleep.

  
\-----------------

  
A few days went by, but time hasn't made his situation any clearer to him. The monotony crept into him again and though it had been just a few days, he already felt like getting crushed by the white walls around him. He doesn't knows what's going on. Is it a dream wich keeps him trapped? Had he been dreaming the whole mess at the camp? Had he ever met Jason, does Jason even exist??! But he has to, he has…Where else should the wounds come from, perfectly matching where the machete struck through him? It must've been real. Maybe after Jason had killed him, the same force wich brought him to the camp in the first place had send him back to the sanatorium. But why? He doesn't knows, no matter how hard he breaks his brain. Laying on his bunk in a fetal position, he wraps his arms around himself thighter. The new doc had decided he doesn't has to remain fixated any longer, the second day after he had woken up. The staff had been quiet surprised dealing with such a calm Michael Myers, but he just had no strenghts left to rage or blow up or even try to lash out for someone. The rookie wouldn't regret his decision and since getting released out of the straps, the only thing his arms had done were holding himself.  
Remembering more and more what had happened the days and weeks before they killed each other, the demon also remembered his big boys betrayal. It hurt, it still hurt so much, but he also remembered the thight embraces, how Jason soothed him every time he freaked out, how safe he had felt hiding to the big body, how good it felt when their energies merged and he had been able to feel Jasons love filling him. Considered to knowing he probartely will never see the big clumsy guy again or even just dreamed him up , the betrayal became less and less important to him. A stupid mistake that shouldn't have happened, but had. He curses himself for wallowing in his hurt pride, in dark thoughts and wasting so much time he should've had spend with Jason. All he wants, so desperately wishes for is to return back to the camp, back to his mate, back where he ever only felt right. Inside his head, the voices whisper. Jason had been able to shut them up, he had wrapped his mind into a pleasant silence. He craves that silence!

  
Night had already fallen over the sanatorium, wrapping it in a dark and oppresive blanket. Audibal a scream here and there, beds being pushed over the hallways, at least one wheel always squeaking, but besides that even this place calmed down after darkness fell. As if all the insanity decided to take a break. Michael listenes to it all, to every little noise echoing through the familar walls and to the slight murmur of the building itself when he hears it the first time.

  
„Michael?“

  
A tiny voice whispers only loud enough for him to hear. He doesn't reacts, doesn't wants to move out of his almost catatonic state. The last few hours, he had been laying in his bed, curled up and facing the wall and while listening to the sanatoriums noises, his body had become heavier and heavier. It almost seemed like he would get sucked into the matress and only thinking about to move a single muscle makes him feel uneasy.

  
„Michael?“

  
There it is again, making him frown. He burries his face into his pillow, hoping if he just ignores it, it will go away.

  
„Michael are you awake?“

  
It won't.

  
Eventually he turns around, groaning to the movement. Yes indeed, he's awake and while it calles him once more, he recognizes the soft, high pitched and slightly annoying voice. It sounds a little hollow coming through the vent, but neverthless it's sweet and almost childlike. Slowly the demon stands up and sneaks over to the opposite wall, his bare feet patting on the cold tiles. He doesn't opens his eyes, the cell is dipped into pitch black, there's nothing he could possibly see. His outstretched hands brush over the cool surface of the wall and he crouches down, groping until his fingertips run over a rounded frame. No sharp edges, never sharp edges anywhere! Though it's a mystery to him how anybody should harm themselfes with the frame of a vent. Using it as a weappon perhaps…

  
He can hear her breath and he knows she can hear him too, but as always, she's waiting for him to give a small sign that he's there. A low grunt does it this time and her voice is filled with reliefe when it sneakes through the vent: „Oh, thank the gods! I already thought you would never wake up again.“.

  
He smiles slightly and lays down on the tiles, his head resting on the floor near the vent. Somehow hearing her voice feels good, it’s something he's certain that it's real and the soft sound always calmed him a little. Even when he sometimes doesn't payed attention to the words and certainly not answered, it made him feel less lost, grounded him somehow. She never seemend to mind his silence. Since she got into the cell next to him, she kept talking to him every other night. She, her name is Betty. About six years ago she got transferred to Smith's Grove from another institution where she‘d only spend around a year. She told him becaurse of overcrowding, but Michael had a slight guess she did something a little too funny, so they were happy to get rid of her. The one thing connecting the two of them indeed is something people rarely had in common. They both killed their families.

  
One muggy summer night, she had told him, _He_ had eventually convinced her that there was no other option than to kill them all and so she did. With an axe, she finished off her parents, bigger sister and smaller brothers, twins. The gruesome details delighted Michael, had he longed for some blood himself, but being locked up was quiet a handicap. She told him after killing them, _He_ had told her to drag the bodies into the backyard, pile them up and set them on fire and again she obeyed. The fire and stench of bruning flesh soon brought the fire brigade and police up, finding her sitting by the dancing flames, watching them devour her family all calm and peaceful. Numerous doctors tried to discover the reason for her doing, but she never told them. _He_ had told her they wouldn't believe her and that it would be easier to just stay silent on the matter.

  
The night she had told Michael about it, rain fell heavy and a thunderstorm raged. Just the perfect conditions to tell a scary story and Michael would lie if he would deny the slight chill it had send down his spine. Sure, he had been thrilled and excieted and while listening with his eyes closed, he had been able to visualize the szenario in every detail. But something had been off, her innocent and sweet appearience it was. When the people heared about his actions, they immagined just the big, bad boogeyman he was, but her? She almost looked like a puppy.

  
One day they both got brought somewhere at the same time, that's when he saw her once for mere seconds. He got dragged to the next doctor who had tried his luck with coaxing some words out of him, she possibly to another doctor or an examination or whatever. The thing is, when he walked past her on the hallway, he had immediately thought she looked way too harmless to be there. Blonde, curly hair tied in piggy tails, a round face with a cute snub nose and full, rose lips wich smiled at him dearly when they walked past each other. Everything about her screamed innocence. Her slender built and being just tall enough that she reached up to his chest, paired with the piggy tails and her huge brown deer eyes made her appear just like a child. He eyed her small hands, trying to imagine them holding the axe, swinging it. With her looks she as good as could've been one of his victims, she just fit the scheme. He had been amazed imagine this small and petite creature killing her whole family, brutally, trapped in bloodthirst. _He_ , Michael hadn't been able to see.

  
She constantly talked about _Him_ who lifes inside her since she had been sixteen. _Him_ , Michael had no idea who _He_ possibly could be and always thought she might suffers a kind of schizophrenia and paranoia. It wouldn't be surprising. Most of the patience locked up at that lost place showed one or both pathologies. But now, after all the experiences he had made at the camp, waking up at the santorium again and getting aware it had all just been a coma plus the wounds torn through his body nobody was able to explain, he guesses everything‘s possible. She had once told him, _He_ has many names, so many she always only called him _He_ and now laying there and listening to her whispering through the vent Michael gets a certain guess who or better what _He_ could be. A demon, an evil force, ancient and always in need of a host to being able to walk the world of the mortals. Why not? If the whole story that happened to him showed him one thing, it is that nothing is impossible. Why not somebody who's possesed by a demon? He never believed in such things, though his own slightly different lifestory, but now the will to call it nonsense had left him. Maybe she's possesed, maybe she's just crazy, maybe he's just crazy. Hell, maybe they're all just crazy and all their lifes are just one huge never ending hallucination! Possible…

Michael twitches when her bright voice drags him back to the here and now. „Oh, He told me to give you a message…“, she says pitching her voice even higher and brighter with every word that leaves her lips. Give him a message? Now he's all ears and what she tells him next, strucks him like lighting: „…He said the lifing dead will come for you very soon.“

  
Lifing dead?

  
_Jason!_

  
\------------------

  
He groaned when he slowly woke up, laying on the hard wooden floor of the cabin. His throat felt sore and dry, the groan stucking in it as if his vocal cords had forgotten how to move. It had taken a while to flutter his eyes open and another while to clear his vision and clearly see the shadowed ceiling. He hadn't noticed he wasn't alone, too busy with wondering why the hell his body felt like filled with heavy lead. When he tried to move, his muscles immeditely complained. He felt stiff, rusted, as if he hadn't moved for a long time. After several minutes of discussing with his body if he should move or not, he eventually did. And boy, did every single joint snapped! He had felt like an old man and when he slowly and carefully lifted his upper body up from the floor, it seemed as if he had sticked to it. As if he had layed there for so long, that his jacket got glued to the wood.

  
Now, his guts perform an unpleasant twitch when he hears the sound of sharp metal grinding against each other. It hurts in his ears and makes every muscle tense up tight. He knows the sound, instantly knows what it's sorce is, who it is. Just then the smell of burned flesh and soot hits his nose, adding disgust to the tenseness and to his twisting guts. „Well, good morning sleeping beauty!“, a rusty voice booms joyfully, clattering through the empty silence that fills the cabin, the entire camp. If he had problems to come around, now Jason is wide awake. He shots up, stumbling when his legs protest and stares at the slender figure leaning against the head of one of the couches. He's it, that strange creature wich had tricked him by shape shifting into a copy of his mother.

_Michael…_ , Jason immediately worries. What has that nasty creature done to him when he had been passed out?!

Piercing green eyes watch as he struggles to keep his balance, arms foldet in front of his chest, a smug smirk plastered on the burned face.  
Jasons first instinct is to grab that slender neck and just snap it. He lashes out, but his muscles won't obey him and he ends up missing the burned man and trying to catch his ballance. „Nah, nah. Is that the way to great an old friend?“, he askes, spreading his arms wide in an inviting gesture. _Friend?_ , no he's not a friend. That disgusting creature is so far away from being a friend as anyone possibly could be. Jason would rather call him an enemy, as bad as a pludge! An angry grunt forces out of his throat, hurting his raw vocal cords. Why is everything feeling so sore and weak? He managed to catch his balance a few steps away from the shapeshifter and now, the slender figure is approaching him slowly. Quiet snickering is rising from the burned throat and the way the slim hips sway with every step sends jolts of rage through Jasons body. Smug, that asshole is so smug and hate is the only word to describe what he feels for the man.

  
„Shhh, you should spare your voice. Not using it for decades lets it cripple and wither. Just like your brain.“, the blade of a clawed finger presses to Jasons mask. The metal is scratching over it's surface, leaving a long scratch behind. It makes Jason twitch and grab the mans wrist with almost enough force to just snap it. „Wh-Where's…he?“, the lifing dead manages to press out, the words harsh and shaking. An innocent expression lays over the scarred face, joined by a wicked sparkle rushing through that green eyes. „Who?“, he askes, pitching his voice higher to sound absolutely clueless. It's enough to bring up Jasons temper and he grabs the slender shoulders firmly, swinging around and smashing the smaller body into a wall. The sudden movement makes him dizzy, his muscles are twitching and it feels like that small body would weight more than himself while the rusty voice laughs at the top of the burned lungs. „Whoohoo, no need to flip, big boy!...“, the mans hands rise in a placately manner, „…You mean your little fucktoy?“.

  
No matter his trembling muscles, Jason smashes the shapeshifters head into the wall, once, twice…a knee painfully hits between his thights, sending him on his knees, caughting and holding his middle. „Christ, not always on the head! Or do you want me to turn into a fucking retard like you are?!“, the man lifts his dark brown hat, rubbing the back of his head. Though his caughting, Jason hears him, hears him calling him a retard and to the burning between his legs, a burning from deep within rises. The man approaches him again and his gloved hand comes to rest on one of his shoulders. The blades slowly sink into his rotting flesh like a hot knife into butter when he says: „He's home. Where else should he be? Don't tell me you already forgot how my magic works…“.

  
_Home? How it works?_ , Jason tenses. His body turns numb, hot and cold chills running up and down his skin and he can't feel the burning sensation of flesh being cut anymore. Panic grabs him, when it slowly strucks him. His thoughts start to race, memories of their first encounter popping up. The man had the ability to crawl into his head. He sneaked inside using his dreams as a gate and while getting slowly aware what might had happened the passed half a year, Jasons breath quickens to the point he almost hyperventilates.

_A dream? It all has been a dream?“ Could that be?_ , he askes himself, getting painfully aware of the most plausible answer. The hoars voice chuckles while the shapeshifter watches the huge row of different emotions crossing the blue eyes. Obviously he had been mistaking when he thought Jason to be dull as a bag of rocks. „Wh-why?“, Jason mutters, his eyes watering.

  
„Why? Caurse I can.“

  
A violent sob forces out from the depths of Jasons chest. It's pathetic, showing off his pain, but he just can't hold it in. _Caurse he can?!,_ his hands clench into fists, still resting on his stomache and he grits his teeth making them crunch. „Well, well don't freak out... You see, I got bored. The kids nowadays are way harder to frighten than they had been in the good old days. You know that damn good yourself. However… I decided to perform a little experiment.“.

  
That's enough, he doesn't wants to hear it! Jason dashes up and with a hard hit, he sends the man flying across the room, meeting the wooden floor with a loud thud. Experiment!? What?! There's a growl emerging from him, deeper and angrier than ever before when he stomps torwards the groaning man with tears of anger falling behind the mask. He's about to grab him and give him another free flight across the cabin when the small body just vanishes into thin smoke, leaving behind the smell of heated up metal and burning flesh.

„Always so rude!“, Jason hears the voice shout behind him and the next second the sharp claws slash over his back. Blood gushes out of the long cuts while he falls onto one knee, still his body feels weaker than usual. Usually, a slash like that shouldn't send him down, he shouldn't be gasping for air and struggling to keep up right. He only felt that weak when he was a kid and being so vulnerable brings back all the bad memories of times he hadn't been able to defend himself or mother.

  
„You guys really surprised me…“, the man says from behind, sneaking closer to him again, „…First, I thought you'll kill each other on the spot, then I thought Michael wouldn't be able to keep up with your hillbilly attitude for long, but instead of ripping each other heads off, you started to fuck! I've never seen that coming!“. Laughter fills the cabin and the shapeshifter slowly walkes around him, crouching down as well. A clawed finger traces down his throat while his breaths are coming in harsh puffs. It burns inside is lungs and his body feels like frozen, he just can't move. The blade lingers on his adams apple, tapping it, but doesn't breaks the skin. „I won't lie, I've been delighted to watch you two, but on the long run I need something more…lets say _special_  to stay interested.“, the unclawed hand waves circles in the air, underling the word _special_. The clawed one travels a little bit lower and to the side, reaching the point where the demons knife sank into Jasons neck, cutting the aorta with precision. „Since I'm not that fat, winged baby, shooting love arrows everywhere, I had to do something about you two…“, the tip of the claw picks at the wound and it sends a shiver through Jason whole body, „…Bringing up your selfs from the past had been fun, but you two still not wanted to go for your throats. I already thought it would never happen. Even when you sneaked behind little Mikeys back, you two disappointed me, but throwing Mommy and the Doc on stage finally worked.“.

  
The blade slowly sinks into the wound, opening it up again and a deep groan escapes Jasons throat. The burned mans words hurt, but the claw tearing into his already abused flesh doesn't delivers the usual stinging pain. It feels different. There are small, orange flames flickering up and they feel so familar. Their heat seemes to fill Jasons body, feeling so pleasant, though they're far away from being as intense as he already experienced them. His breathing deepens and his eyes fall shut under the curious gaze of the shapeshifter. „Interesting…“, the man mumbles and narrows his eyes, twisting the blade and probing in the rotten flesh to get another reaction and indeed another deep and breathy groan arises, „…That little loonatic really got under your skin, hasn't he?“. Maybe he indeed is cupid?

  
As the blade twists and the flames flicker, the truth of reality sinks in deeper into Jason. He's alone again, everybody is gone. They had only been illusions, the small ones…his mom. Only Michael had seemingly been real and the demon is alone again too. Locked up inside a psychatric hospital far away from Crystal Lake. His dead heart clenches inside his chest. No matter their last encounter, he loves the devil and there's nothing he wishes more for than having the chance to embrace him again. He would do anything for it. _Anything…_

  
„Br-bring me t-to…him.“, he stutters. The blade immediately stops to move around and the green eyes stare at him widening.

  
„Do I look like a traveling agency?“

  
He doesn't, but Jason knows he's able to shift probartely to everywhere he wants. The burned man has the ability to take him to his demon and desperate as he currently is, he would do anything to make him do it. „What…d-do you w-ant?“, he askes, meeting the gaze of the piercing green eyes staring at him from under raised non existing eyebrows. The blade withdraws slowly, pulling a strand of thick blood with it and the slim arms cross infront of the striped sweater. A smug smirk stretches the scarred flesh and the tips of sharp teeth lurk out. „Are you really suggesting a deal, hockey puck?“

 


	22. Welcome to Smith's Grove

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, chapter 22! :D  
> God, I know I'm more than slow currently, but the last weeks I've been way more into drawing than writing.  
> I guess I won't add the next chapter before the holidays, so I prematurely wish you all a merry, merry christmas and a happy new year <3

Only one blink of an eye and he falls back flat on his ass while the burned man next to him is leaning his arms on his tights, panting heavily. Yes, he's a demon, yes he's got the powers of hell and yes, he's more than experienced in teleporting, but doing it over such a great distance and having to drag someone as huge as the hockey puck with him is something that exhaustes even him. It's not like he's a mage or something and while it looks easy peasy when he vanishes into smoke, it's far more difficult. Specially when you have been asked to turn a giant rotting body into thin smoke! But he'll get rewarded good enough, he knows, so it makes only ninetynine percent of all the cells in his body scream in resistance. He watches Jason standing up, dusting of his pants and eyening the big building right in front of them suspiciously. First he had thought about appearing right at the main entrance, would've been fun caursing chaos and confusion, but for their or better Jasons intentions, one of the side entrances seemed more accurate. „You really are a handfull.“, he pants earning just a short glance of the baby blue eyes. Jason appears like a small boy, thinking about if he should take the cookie or not inspecting the building with his gaze. The cookie is a murderous and crazy killer, but the heart wants what it wants and if it wants that special cookie, he’s sure the rotting giant will get it.

Still slightly out of breath, he pulls the blue gaze back on him, when his unclawed hand comes to rest on the lifing deads shoulder. „Welcome to Smith's Grove, thank you for traveling with Krueger airlines…“, the hoarse voice says and Jason would've laughed or at least chuckled if not all of his thoughts were already running down the endless hallways of the sanatorium, „…If you excuse me now, I really don't want to waste my time here any longer.“

„You h- have...to stay.“

„Oh, really? And why should I have to do that, dumbass?“

„You have t-to… back to the camp!“, god his stuttering is aweful. Jason desperately hopes it'll get better again soon.

„What? Oh, no, no, no, no, sweety…“, one clawed finger waves from side to side while the burned lips stretch into a wide grin, „…You asked me to bring you here and I did. You never said anything about bringing you back, that’s not part of our little deal.“

„But-…“, Jason starts, but the blade pushes to his mask, hushing him immediately.

„No buts. It wasn't part of the deal and despite that, I may be strong, but I'm not Hercules. Dragging you two giant, meatbags back to the camp? Pfft no way, nothing I would like to perform…“, the blade lifts from the mask and short before the burned man vanishes into smoke again he adds, „…Have fun, dickhead. Oh, and don't you dare to forget about our deal! It's your turn now, I'll come back to you.“

And with that, he’s gone as if he never had been there, leaving Jason staring holes into the empty air. He's in a foreign city, a foreign state, Illinois he remembers the demon told him, without any plans how to get back to crystal lake or how far away home is and just about to run into a sanatorium full of mortals to find Michael and get him out there. Could it get any better? No, exept if he would be at the wrong sanatorium, that would be hysterical! His fastened breath makes the air under his mask damp and heavy while he slowly approaches the nondescript door. There's nothing in there he has to fear, just a bunch of crazy mortals and their watchdogs, but though his knees feel weak. What if Michael doesn't wants to see him? What if Michael can't even remember? What if he can, but doesn't gives a shit? It's swarming inside his head and his fingertips are tingling when they brush over the metallic surface. Closing his eyes, Jason takes in a deep breath. No matter what will expect him in there, he just can't pretend nothing has changed. The door crashes down as his boot collides with it in a hard kick and immediately a shrill alarm wents off. He'll be surrounded by guards in no time. Let’s get to work, he thinks, sighting deeply while he starts to walk into the crazyhouse.

\-----------------

Inside his cell, Michael is cowering on his bunk, thightly wrapped into the thin felt blanket. Felt, who the hell came up with felt to make blankets out of?! **Felt**! The most uncozy fabric ever! It's scratchy and far away from being soft and though the blankets at the camp had been covered in decades old layers of dust, they were a thousand times better than this. _At the camp…,_ he thinks wistfully, feeling his chest thighten. His gaze waters, staring at the same point at the opposide wall he had stared at the whole damn night. Wetness flows down his uncovered cheeks and he blames his racing and exhausted mind, though he knows it's not true or at least not the whole truth. Without Jason he suddenly feels incomplete, as if an esscencial part is missing he never even knew about. But now he knows, he knows painfully well what he's missing so much it robs the air out of his lungs. It's true, you can't miss something you don't know, but he knows…

After Betty had told him about the latest crazy antics he had missed while being trapped in that strange coma, she had said how happy she was that he finally woke up again and with that went to bed. Laying there on his back on the cold tiled floor in absolute darkness and staring through it to the ceiling, her earlier words were echoing through his mind over and over again.

_The lifing dead will come to get you, soon._

The lifing dead, Jason. It had to be Jason. How could she know about him? Has he babbled his name in his unconsciouness? But why should she claim he'll come for him? Though she as well isn't at the sanatorium without a good reason, Michael never claimed her the kind of those who talk crazy bullshit whenever they open their mouth. No, she always had seemed frightenly normal, a cute, young girl that just snapped that one night. Sure, she always talked about _Him_ who nests deep inside her. _He_ , who made her kill, _He_ who knows everything and always talks to her. But Michael always thought _He_ was just some kind of schizophrenia, paired with a certain ammount of paranoia and that mixture had made her kill her family. Nothing extraordinary. Sitting there and chewing on his bottom lip, the demon broods about his realization from last night. _He_ isn't just inside her head, not only a disorder that has infested this weak, little humans mind, _He's_ probartly very real, so real it's too much for the healthy ones to comprehend, so they reduced _Him_ to an ordinary mental illness. _He_ is a demon, an evil force, a bad ghost, a creature considerable to what he himself had become that faithfull halloween so many years ago. Sounds insane? No, inside Michaels head it sounds more than accurate now.

His gaze pulls away from the wall when he hears the lock of the cell next to his move and the heavy door open. Time for the pills, he thinks bitterly, eyening the untouched tablet sitting on the small table at the wall. He hasn't been hungry, not that he would be often, but this morning only thinking about eating breakfast made his stomache twist. With his mind throwing a tantrum about what Betty had said, he just wasn't able to only even consider it. The door shuts again and the locks click. Echoing footsteps on the hallway and then his door is next. The locks snap back and first two armed guards enter his cell. He hasn't done anything funny since he woke up, but still the staff is just as frightened as they always were. He can literally smell their fear, making the air in the cell prickling and he knows just one unexpected move and a great load of tranquilizers will be shot into him. He won't do something, though the smell of pure fear is very tempting. There's just something missing, something that Jason had taken with him.

„Same procedure as every day.“, the nurse says when she walkes past the guards and stops right in front of them. Close enough that if he would grab her, the guards could react immediately. She's an eldery lady, maybe in her sixtys and he knows her since he first came here. Over the years she has appropriated a certain ammount of sarcasm and humor, dealing with the patience. He guesses that is necessary dealing with individuals so broken day in and out. How else should such a fragile mind as the humans deal with all that insanity and filth without getting dragged down as well? Honestly, he enjoys her satcastic humor. It had made him smirk more than once. She hands him a small cup holding three different pills he didn't even know what they are and the moment their hands are close together, the demon can literally hear the guards tense in the background. It's always the most pent up moment and for a split second he thinks about to jump her. He would grab her by her perfectly tied bun and smash her face into the ground over and over again until either the tranquilizers would work or the guards would pull him off of her. Not because he has the urging wish to hurt her, but to get sedated and maybe see Jason again if he only stays unconscious long enough. _Jason…_ , one of his inner voices whipers while he stares down into the cup and the staff waits for him to finally swallow the pills. The moment the nurse opens her mouth, about to ask him to take the pills and Michael discards the thought of attacking her, he suddenly drops the cup. It's as if an earthquake shakes his body and his flames immediately reach out for the familar energy suddenly appearing very close. He's frozen, staring into nothing while the fingers of the guards nervously sit at the triggers of the tranquilizer guns, expecting hell could break lose every second. The nurses gaze fallows the pills wich are rolling around on the tiles and for a short moment all four of them are standing there, the guards and the nurse on alert, the demon not moving a muscle only sensing what feels so equal to him. Their heads snap to the right when Bettys voice cuts through the silence, blarring through the vent. „He's here! Michael, he's here! It's time!“, she outright cheers, calling his name over and over again. Her voice gets drowned by the shrill alarm going off, resounding ever tiny corner of the building.

Before Michael really thinks about what he's doing, he takes advantage of the staffs confusion, dashing torwards them, knocking the nurse to the floor on his way. The tiny projectiles flying into his direction are hitting the wall behind him, shattering on the tiles. It's almost too fast for his own mind to follow and the next time he blinks he smashes both guards heads together, feeling the satisfying crack of skull bones beneath his palms. They sink to the ground into one limp pile while the nurse squearms and rubs her head. She's about to stand up, obviously not understanding what exactly happened when a tranquilizer hits her in the neck. It takes only a split second for the strong sedativum to work and her body colappses to the floor again. He hears Betty still yelling his name and it sounds like she's jumping through her cell. He also hears rushing footsteps in the hallway coming closer. Peeking out of the cells door, there are two guards running torwards their cells. The demon leans the door shut, just enough to make it appear as if it is locked and the monster behind is still securely shut away. They're running past his and Bettys cell, heading for the great lock seperating their wing from the next. In case the alarm wents off, everything gets shut down immediately, he knows. They'll lock every single door so no one comes in and no one gets out. But this time, he'll get out!

Soundlessly sneaking into the hallway, the demon takes down the guards with tranquilizers as well. He rummages around their limp bodies, grabbing their key cards. Technic, he thinks, missing the times they used real keys made of metal instead of the damn plastic cards. Back then he had been able to identify every guard by the specific sound their key rings made when they walked the hallways, now the only thing audibal are their footsteps and stupid conversations.

He's about to open the great lock and head towards the cold energy wich is drawing him in so temptingly, when his hand pauses midair. He can't just leave. Well, he could, but there's something he has to do first. Turning on his heels the demon runs back and pulls the key card through the lock of one of the cells. The bolts flip back and when he pushes the heavy door open she greats him with a giant grin plastered on her face, standing right behind the door as if she knew he would open it. _Of course she knew. He knew…,_ Michael guesses while staring down at her. She looks just as innocent as when he last saw her. Her blond, curly hair a little longer, again tied into piggytails, her brown eyes big and clear like the ones of a small child and her cheeks slightly flushed from all the shouting. The alarm is still blarring and Michael hesitates for a second, knowing there's actually no time for that, but though he touches her. And she allows it, following his hand with her eyes and knowing exactly what the big slasher is looking for. The moment his fingertips brush over her slender wrist, he can feel _Him_. _He's_ there, nestled deep within her, greeting him like an old friend. _He_ feels like the darkness that always surrounded him, like the empty space he got send to after every time he died. A black fog reaches out for his orange flames and the fire surrenders, letting the fog creep into it. _He_ just feels familar, indeed like an old friend. Footsteps are dragging the demon’s mind back. He hands one of the key carts to Betty, she's still grinning, letting him place the card into her open palms. „Do what ever you want. Flee, caurse chaos, whatever.“, he says fast, his voice the same harshness as when he first spoke at the camp. Her grin even widens and her eyes glisten with the same mischief his do so often, when he takes off down the hallway to the next wing.

\----------------

Jason grunts when he pulls his machete out of another guard. He has no fucking idea where in this maze of hallways and rooms Michael could possibly be and the offending mortals appear just like ants streaming out of their anthill. At least he already knows his demon noticed him. Either this or someone did something really stupid to trigger the flaming energy to increase in temperature and rage about the double. Turning a corner, the next hallway extends in front of him. Is this damn building made out of nothing but hallways?! Sighting, he continues his search. He stops when he feels the demon coming closer, obviously roaming the hallways as well now. A warm smile plays along his hidden lips when he imagines his devil fighting his way out of captivity. He imagines him all bloody already, caught up in the same euphoric state he had been in when they had slashed together that one night at the camp. Remembering it he also remembers the kiss they shared later at the campfire, so sweet and gentle in great contrast to their other sides.

When Jason turns the next corner a guard bumbs into him and rips him out of his memories. The guy crashes into him full speed and gets thrown back, falling to the ground while Jason only stumbles slightly. Always the same with the mortals… The machete fast finds it's way into the guards chest, pinning him to the ground before he has the slightest chance to even straighten up again. Jason watches the pool of blood forming on the tiles and inhales it's thick scent before he pulls the machete out of the twitching body with a squishy sound and gets into motion again. Michael is near, he knows. The farther he walkes down the hallway, the stronger the demons hellfire gets. A huge double door blocks the end of the hallway and through the small window in the upper part Jason can make out a slightly wider and more open space than the hallways are. There are muffled noises sounding like shots coming through the heavy door and voices are yelling things he can't understand. The door itself is no barrier to him. Sure he could've used one of the keycards, but honestly, he had always been the raw kind. His shoulder collides with the metal three times before it eventually gives way to the small foyer.

Stumbling inside, his eyes went wide when he sees him. There he is, Michael, jumping one of the guards and using him as a shield against the tranquilizers being shot at him. He's just as gracefull as he had been in their shared dream, every move calculated and precise and Jason wishes he would have his knife only to see him use it with perfection. The bigger slasher stands there, watching in awe as Michael takes down two of the guards, smashing the second into the tiled floor face first. A joyfull smile appears on the demons dislayed face hearing the skull of the guard break. The third is about to shoot when Jason breaks free out of his admiration and dashes over, ramming the machete into his back. It treads out on the other side and he pulls him up just to throw him down onto the floor and off the machete. The dead body slides a little, coming to a stop right in front Michaels bare feet. Jasons gaze travels up, away from the bleeding out body, onto the panting figure standing only a few steps away from him.

Time freezes and they’re only staring at each other, seeing the other outside of the dream realm for the first time. Black meets blue and between them their energies already reached out for each other, mingling and forging. The demon makes the first step and just as in Jasons imagination he's splattered in blood. All over the white clothes a neat pattern of rich red dots and splashes is drawn, his hands covered in red as if he has doved them into one of the bodies. He's looking just as dangerous as he is and it makes Jasons heart beat faster. Never has he seen such a beautiful creature. As Michael slowly walkes closer, the bigger slashers gaze wanders up to his face and it’s not the familar white mask he sees. He recognizes the full lips, the jawline, the dark eyes wich are eyening him full of curiousity and suspiciousness, but the entire picture is something different. He had never tried to imagine the demons face, only asked himself if there was a reason for hiding it as he does with his own, but there isn't. Not in his opinion, no, there certainly isn't! The skin is as pale as Jason remembers it, covering high cheek bones, the features soft, absolutely able to hide the devils gruesomeness and make him appear totally harmless. Handsome, you deffinitely could call him handsome and when he's just a step away anymore, Jason can make out the tiny freckles sprinkled over the demons cheeks and bridge of his nose. He remembers the face of the child Michael and how he had wondered if his demon also has that cute freckles and damn he does! He does and suddenly he's so close, Jason doesn't remembers how to breath.

But in the dim light, he can also make out something else. Maybe the reason why Michael used to hide behind the mask. It's hard to see standing in the dark voryee only iluminated by the neon light coming from the hallways, but though Jason sees it. It climbs up from the demons left cheek to the eyebrow, sparing the eye only barely. A scar. It looks like carved into the porcellan skin, obviously old caurse there's no red or pink left, it turned white probartely many years ago. It wakes the big guys curiousity. Where does it come from? Did a victim landed a strike? An accident? Maybe Michael will tell him some day, but there's one thing Jason is certain about. It's no reason for hiding that handsome and pretty face!

Sneaking closer, Michael eyes the lifing dead from head to toe or better from mask to boot. His ragged clothes are covered in crusted dirt who knows how old and blood so fresh he bets the spots are still warm. The mask equally dirty, covered with scratches from wich a long one appears fresh and it's also nicely sprinkled with rich red splatters. Just as rich as the blue eyes staring at him as if seeing a ghost. The red fits the blue and he admires it, sneaking closer with a certain amount of caution. What if he's just hallucinating? If they put him on some new medication and his mind is just playing tricks with him? It would kill him. Eventually he's so close that he can smell the lifing deads earthy and woodsy scent mixed with the fresh blood. It's filling the air around him, moldy and damp just like he remembers it. Jason has to be real, he has to! The broad frame doesn't moves an inch, not even when Michael finally is so close that his breath brushes over the hockey mask. Indeed every tiny movement has stopped, Jason even stopped to breath and the small gap of air between them literally crackles with free flowing energy.

Michael hesitantely raises one hand. Should he dare to touch him? What if his hand wents straight through him, exposing him as just his desperate imagination? It would kill the last bit of hope inside him, chopping it's head off with one precise cut, but though the demon can't resist. It's the chance that Jason could be real that makes him brush his fingertips over the bigger slashers chest and to his surprise they aren't going straight through him. No, it's like a wave of the lakes water hitting him with full force and immediately there are no doubts that Jason is real, so real as anyone possibly could be. So real like the trails of corpses they both have left in the hallways, so damn real like Betty grinning at him with that innocent face, so real like the liquid calmness filling him from the inside now. „You're real…“, he breathes hoarsly, resisting to bury himself into the broad frame and just get lost in the lakes depths. Jason gives a slight nod, way too busy with dealing with the raging flames biting into him by the devils touch, to say something. Hesitantely his gloved hand rises, wondering if he's allowed to touch that handsome face, but though he isn’t sure, he does. He cups the demons cheek, brushing his thump over the tiny freckles, burning them into his mind, the position of every single one. His fingers itch to run over the scar, to examine it closely, but he holds back. He doesn't wants to scare Michael away. Not now when they're finally met for real.

For a second the demons eyes go wide, fear and shame displaying in the darkness when he realizes there's no mask hiding him. Not his face, not the scar, not the past, not himself, nothing. In the heat of the moment with all the blood, bones cracking and flesh getting torn open, he just hasn't noticed. However, the way Jason looks at him and how careful and tender he touches him, lets it all vanish slowly. Eventually Michael leans into the touch, allowing his eyes to fall shut and only enjoy the feeling of their bond strengthening again. „B-beautiful.“, it rumbles through his mates chest, rusty and low and it makes him smile softly. The stuttering is back, but he doesn't minds. It's not offending or weird, it's cute standing in such a great contrast with Jasons appearience.

They both forget the world around them for long moments, so damn relieved the other is real and not just a cloudy dream. The alarm and the sanatorium only reappear again, when a group of people comes dashing down the hallway Michael came from, yelling, jumping, shouting like crazy and they are. Jason immediately raises his machete, but Michael grabs his wrist, shaking his head no. „Let them.“, he says and Jason lowers it slowly. They run past them, down the other hallway not wasting even one glance at them. Four guys, two women, dressed in the same white robe the devil is. Obviously Betty decided to caurse chaos instead to immediately flee and that's something Michael really appecriates. The more chaos the better, he thinks smirking when he imagines Betty running around, freeing the other patience and inciteing them to rebellion. She really is something and he likes her. He's still holding Jason by the wrist when he takes off following the noisy group down the hallway and dragging the bigger slasher with him.

There are a few guards crossing their way, but against the loonatics on the lose, their outnumbered and chanceless. One tranquilizer hits Jasons shoulder, making him stop aprubtly. He turns his head and eyes the small transparent bullet, pulling it out of his rotting flesh like an annoying little splinter. Michael stares at him, expecting Jason to collapse every second, while a heavy boot scrunches the tranquilizer. An angry snarl tears out of Jason when his gaze catches the guard who shot him and he swings the machete, cutting the guy neatly in half. The blade tears through the body with easy and slowly it folds apart, falling limply to the floor in a pool of blood. Wide eyed Michael stares. Obviously it's a benefit to rot and lack a propper working blood circulation, at least when getting shot with tranquilizers. The guards blood painted the hockey mask almost completely red and when Jason turns, there's nothing but adoration in the black eyes staring at him. Without the mask he's able to take in the devils complete expression and he likes it. It displays what he thinks so mercylessly, Jason guesses maybe that's an additional reason why he always wore a mask. This time it's his turn to grab Michael by the hand and drag him behind. He smiles widely hearing the demon give a joyfull cheer. They're almost out and then nothing would stop them on their way back home!

There's glass shettering and people howling and cheering. The noises they make are pitched so high, they almost sound like a hord of monkeys dashing through the jungle. Turning a last corner, Jason sprints through the lobby, still holding Michael by the wrist. The shaddered glass crunches under his steps when they cross the smashed main entrance. Pieces of glass tear into Michaels bare feet, but he doesn't notices when they finally reach the parking lot, the cold, rainy air hitting him like a train. When had he been outside the last time? Really outside, not only dreaming about it. He doesn't knows, maybe when he did one of his little trips to Haddonfield. Panting and slightly swaying he stops, resting his arms on his knees. It's too much, too sudden. Sitting down on the wet concrete suddenly sounds very tempting. The air burns inide his lungs and the absence of walls makes him feel like he would float away any moment. „Michael?“, Jason calls him, sounding more than worried though his only semi good working voice. The demon almost can't hear him. Inside his ears his heartbeat is drumming and his head suddenly feels like it's about to burst. Panic, he manages to think, but can't voice it. Perfect timing as always! There's a good chance his heart will jump right out of his chest, bouncing so hard against his ripcage. A cold hand lays down on his back, beginning to draw reassuring little circles. „M-Michael?“, Jason calls again and this time he hears him clearly. It's like the dark voice is right inside his mind and it's enough to make his instincts work again. Car, they need a car to get the fuck away from here.

Without a word the demon takes off again, stumbling slightly on shaking legs, but he works on autopilot now, knowing exactly what to do. Jason follows and watches him when his ellbow collides with the window of the first car he reaches, blood soaking the white fabric. It doesn't matters and he ignores the worried grunt his mate exhales, reaching inside and opening the door. He rips the casing off the dashboard, pulling the wires out and fumbling with them with skilled fingers. Jason watches, his gaze switching from Michael to the sanatorium and back. There are patience running out, some screaming and laughing. A few guards chase them, obviously hopelessly overwhelmed by the unexpected mass breakout. Suddenly the engine of the car roars to live and the demon snickers. _Still got the moves!_ , he cheers inwardly, bending over and unlocking the passengers side door. „Get in!“, he outright yells at Jason, but the water spirit only stares at him, not moving a bit. The demons nerves are tensed up thight and the „What?!“ he spits at Jason comes out way more venemous as he intended to.

„I-it's theft…“, Jason begins to mumble, „…we can't j-just…just take it.“.

They can't just…? Wait…what?! Is he serious? It's ok to break into a mental hospital, free one of the most dangerous pantience it ever held captured, kill everyone who dares to step into their way and caursing every other inmate to break free as well, but stealing a car isn't?! For a moment Michael has no idea what to replay to that and only stares right back at Jason his eyes so wide they begin to burn. The clumsy guy still is standing outside the car like a rock, not making any efforts to get inside. Michaels hands clutch the steeringwheel so tight, his knuckles turn white. „Jason, darling…“, he says, holding on to the last bit of patience he's able to bring up, „…I swear, if you don't get into that damn car right fucking **now** , I'll leave you here so they can run experiments on you!“.

And that does it. The wide shoulders steer and Jason dashes around the car, throwing himself into the passengers seat, not one bit interested in finding out what ever experiments the demon talks about. His broad frame proves as not always helpful. The car isn't small but though he has to squeeze into the small space the passengers side offers. Exhaling a deep sight, Michael is about to hit the gas, when one of the back doors flies open and a slender figure jumps inside. Their both heads snap to the back, getting greated by a panting, but widely smiling Betty. „Got space for a third one?“, she askes already fastening her seatbelt. Jason looks at his mate, confused and already raising the machete when the demons hand stops him again. „She's like us.“, he only says, his thump brushing the cold wrist, confusing Jason even more. While the bigger slasher can’t do nothing but stare at the small women sitting in the back, they get off with squealing wheels, away from that horrible place.


	23. Thanks for the help, Ralph!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for taking so long! The last few weeks my head's just so empty >.<

_She's like us._

How can that be? How come? While Michael drives the car in a random direction, only wanting to put a great distance between them and Smith's Grove as fast as possible, Jason still curiously eyes the girl in the back. She looks back at him and smiles softly, obviously not afraid of him in the slightest. How can she be like them? She looks just normal, just fine, like every other mortal does. Sure, she seems to be one of the brave kind, her huge brown eyes staring right back into his without any hint of fear, but that doesn't makes her like them. But Michael wouldn't say it if it weren't true, would he? Just to reassure him and protect that little human? No, there has to be something about her he's missing. Jason would ask his mate, but currently he seems not in the condition to talk. The demon still grabs the steeringwheel so tight his knuckles are white and his soft features are frozen in a deep frown of concentration and thrill, only staring at the street. If he keeps up driving like this, the police will definitely pull them out.

„We should lay low until the night.“, the girl from the back says suddenly as if she has heared the lifing deads thoughts. Michael doesn't reacts, maybe he hasn't even heared her, trapped in the maze of his mind. „M-Micheal?“, Jason carefully touches one of the cramped hands. The demon twitches and grits his teeth. The last thing he wants to do now is to stop and wait until the dark, still relatively close to the sanatorium. But eventually he gives in: „Yeah…yeah we should.“. His voice is absent and his gaze never leaves the concrete in front of the car. Jason withdraws his hand, not sure if the contact only adds to the demons tensed up state. Maybe Michael will calm down a little when they stop and hide for the next few hours. He pulls the car in a small side street, taking the curve so sharp Jason and Betty are thrown to the left. A bright cheer in the back, a surprised grunt next to him.

Fortunately Smith's Grove is located a little bit outside and there are plenty of small woods surrounding it. The small street turns into a gravel path and the car dissappears between dark trees. Positioning it away from the path as far into the trees as possible, Michael finally turns off the engine. Suddenly it's so quiet that Jason can hear Betty breath in the back. Oh, she bothers him and he definitely has to ask Michael what's so special about her. Thick raindrops are pattering onto the cars roof from the trees, drumming a metallic melody, but else? Silence. Not even the birds are chirping, most likely hiding in the treetops from the rain. Looking up through the front window, Jason glimpses up to the sky. It's grey, thick and heavy clouds blocking out most of the suns light. The leafes of the trees are starting to change in color. Most of them still green, but here and there are already some yellow ones. Autumn is near. Soon they'll turn orange and red, falling down and forming a closed carpet on the woods ground. Michael sure will like it at the camp seeing it glowing in his own colors. The back door opening rips Jason out of his thoughts. „I'll look around a little.“, Betty announces gently pushing the door shut, not even waiting for an answer. Jason watches her dissappearing into the trees, debating with himself if it's a good idea to walk around now. What if she gets caught and gives away where they are? He's about to voice his concern, but when he turns his head and sees his mate still gripping the steeringwheel as if he wants to strangle it and his gaze still blankly staring ahead, the concerns about the girl vanish immediately. The demon is even tenser as he had been in the dream realm and maybe he should just let him be, but he can't. „Michael…“, he calls him softly while he tries to ease the devils hands away from the steeringwheel. It's like trying to open up a bear trap, Michael certainly is just as strong in the real world as in the dream realm. „I'm fine.“, he says shortly, letting go of the steeringwheel only to claw right into the padding of his seat. He's not, Jason knows. He's close to a complete break down or maybe to blow up, hard to tell with the demon being so silent and quiet. Whatever it'll be, both won't be good.

The lifing dead decides to start with something entirely unimportant. Maybe it'll help Michael relax a little and come out of his high tensed state. „I- I didn't know…y-you can…can drive.“, he says, gently laying one hand onto a cramped one. The demons gaze stays fixed to the trees in front of them. His eyes aren't giving away what he feels or thinks and the vibes Jason gets through their bond are so messed up, that he can't judge them either. „Well…yeah I can…“, Michael eventually mutters, his voice neutral and Jason knows it's the silence befor the storm. He squeezes the hand beneath his palm, feeling it tremble. Inside Michaels head, the thoughts are rushing so fast that it makes him dizzy and feel sick. If he could, he would just run away, hiding somewhere until his mind calmes down. But he's probartely the only one who can drive. Jason certainly can't and Betty getting hospitalized at sixteen most likely can't as well. He can't just leave them here, specially not his mate, but what the hell has actually happened?! The camp, the coma, Betty and her little guest inside, Jason showing up, slashing their way out of the nuhouse…it's just too much for his brain to comprehend. He's used to strange situations, to things others claim as impossible, but even he isn't limtlessly loadable. His senses are so overstimulated, everything he takes in just feels like white noise anymore. Enough, it's enough, more as he can take. It feels like it has so often in the past, when he had been a child and things happened no child should ever go through. The world blurrs, his brain trying to shut all the input down to protect him.

His hand unclenches from the seat and it flips, lacing their fingers tightly together. Jason squeezes slightly and brushes his thump over it, cool and shoothing waves radiating from him. He's real, he is and only that single fact seems to be more than overwhelming at the moment. „I'm so confused Jay…“, he starts, but a violent sob robs the air out of his lungs and he slumps forward. His free hand covers his eyes while he desperately tries to hold back the next sobs threatening to rip out of him, but it's useless. They come, intense and behind his hand hot tears start to fall mercylessly. Jason is immediately there, leaning over from his place in the passengers side and wrapping his arms around him. Suddenly the lakes water flows all around him. It feels so good being surrounded by the lifing deads coldness, but even that is too much right now. „I…I just can't…“, Michael mutters failing into sobbing again. He doesn't even knows what exactly he can't. Just everything feels too much, overrunning him and burrying him completely. His mates low voice does soothing sounds and whispers: „It- It's ok.“. And he believes him. The devil believes him that indeed it's ok to feel like this. That's nothing he has to be ashamed of and that he doesn't has to hide it. That it’s ok to melt into Jasons embrace.

The position they were in got more and more awkward. Being bent over with the gear lever boring into his rips hadn't been very comfortable. So when Michaels sobs finally slowly creased, Jason has pulled him over and nestled him into his lap and into a thight embrace. It must look rediculous, two large killers squeezed into the passengers seat of a car, but no matter how it looks, it seems to help. The demons breathing has slowed down and the trembling wich shook his body has stopped. They haven't talked, just communicated through their bond on a much intenser base words ever could. Though Jasons head is filled with words, thoughts. Michael will get better when they'll be at the camp. He can heal there with Jason taking care of him. No one will bother them anymore, nothing strange will happen. It will be just them, the lake and the woods and mother. It'll be peaceful and grounded. If some mortals show up, they both will take care of them, working as a team and sharing the fun. They will be happy, they will. He only has to fulfill his part of the deal first and then, they'll be happy.

When the back door opens and Betty climbs back into the car, sun has almost fully set. It's still barely visible through the clouds, shining weak rays through the trees, but soon darkness will envolope everything. Jason doesn't knows how long Betty has been gone and he has been sitting there with Michael resting in his lap, but the time had been enough to make the devil relaxe. „He's pretty exhausted, huh?“, Betty asks eyening Michaels curled up form surrounded by Jasons strong arms. The lifing dead grunts in response and nods slightly. Still, he distrusts the girl. She leans forward and rests her chin on the passengers seat rest. „I think he hasn't slept for just one second last night. After I told him you would come and get him out, he seemed quiet freaked out. Well, I guess, it's not that he told me.“.

_She told him?_ , Jason thinks confusedly while slowly turning his head to face her. How the hell could've she known? Does she stays in contact with the burned man? The thought makes his blood boil. Maybe she's a spy of him! Her gaze pulls away from Michael and focuses on Jason when his grip around his mate thightens protectively. The rising anger is clearly flickering in the lifing deads blue eyes, but though she doesn't seems to be worried. Maybe she's just tired of life? Inside Jason a debate rises up if he should slay her or not. His hands claw into the demons back, making him wince surprisedly and Jason immeditaley shifts his attention back on him. „What's going on?“, the demon asks tiredly lifting his head from his mates broad chest. He hasn't slept, just rested. Maybe he should've slept. Trying to focus his vision, his body feels so heavy. His head throbs and his eyes burn. Driving all night definitely will be a pleassure.

Jason gently pets his mates hair and brushes the brown strands out of the groggy face, trying to ease him a little and show him everything's fine. It seems to work, though Michael suspiciously looks back and forth between them and there it is, the patented high raised brow almost touching the devils hairline. It's tempting to touch it and find out if it can raise even higher, but fortunately Bettys voice stops Jason from trying. „It's all good. I looked around a little and checked out what our little _friends_ are doing…“, she says, doing quotation marks to the word friends, „…They're busy trying to catch all the others who fled and police is guarding most of the roads. I saw them grouping up with flashlights and dogs not far away, they'll certainly comb trhough the woods next.“.

Well, that's not the meaning of it's all good. „We have to leave.“, Michael says, wiggling out of Jasons secure embrace and sliding back into the drivers seat. It's not safe out there, neither on the street. The safest place he can think of indeed is the camp, though it's more than tempting to do a little detour to Haddonfield and visit his old home. Maybe Laurie is still there…No, not now. There will be enough time to hunt her down when things cooled down a little and not every officer available is looking for them. Maybe he could take Jason with him… „Do you know the way back to the camp?“, he askes Jason who just shakes his head. _No? „_ How did you get here?“, his mate has to know the way back. „S- someone took… me h-here.“ „Someone?“ Jason nods, avoiding the devils questioning gaze. He can't tell him about the burned man now. It most likely will cause another outburst of emotions and this time probartely without tears and with much of yelling. Michael sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. He just hasn't the nerv right now to coax every single word out of Jason, like pulling worms out of wet soil. If he doesn't wants to be helpfull, fine! „I guess we need a map then…“, he mutters grumpily, „…and gas. The tank is almost empty.“. It'll last for a few miles more, but definitely not the whole way. The demon isn't even sure where camp crystal lake is located. With his luck, it's on the opposide of the continent…

„There's a gas station a bit up the road. You could park the car a little bit away from it and I could try to get some gas and a map…“, Betty suggests, sounding as if it's nothing, „…No offense, but I think I'm a little more inconspicuous than you guys.“. Indeed she is. If one of them is able to walk around undetected, it's her. Michael starts the engine and carefully maneuveres the car out of the trees. The gravel crunches loudly under the wheels and he desperately hopes Bettys picture isn't already running up and down the news. His certainly is…or the authorities are afraid to cause hysteria if they send his outbreak in the news, would be possible as well. However, sending Betty to get what they need is the safest option they have.

\-----------------

Driving up at the gasstation and just refuel would be the exact ammount of impudence Michael likes, but it's not worth the trouble. He stops the car around a mile away, hidden between the trees rowing up at the roads sides. It's risky to let Betty walk the way all alone as well, but still less showy than driving her or two giant bodyguards following her. But there's one certain problem. Turning around, the demon eyes his small female human friend. She's still wearing the white clinic robe he does and there's no way she could go unditected looking like that! „I need a make over, right?“, she asks smiling coyly. The demon only nods, asking himself if she just saw it in his face what he was thinking or if _He_ is able to glimpse inside his head. Since he got certain that _He_ isn‘t just a sick illusion, he's wondering what the unknown force is capable of. He had seen movies about possesed people, parsons performing spectacular exorcisms when he was a kid, but with Betty there's no head spinning, no speaking in foreign languages and voices, no supernatural things happening. He just hides inside her, pulling the strings from behind the curtain and increasing Michaels curiousity. However…Michael shakes out of his wondering about the other demon. There are more important problems to solve right now. The clothes issue and even more pressing, they have no money. Betty can't just steal the gas and the map. It would draw way too much attention, something he wants to avoid no matter what.

Her bright voice booms through the small space of the cars inside, adressing Jason: „Hey, gimme your jacket and belt!“. Sometimes, it seems, the girl can't controll her enthusiasm. The bigger slasher stares at her in pure confusion. „W-What?“, he asks sounding even more confused than he looks. It does something to Michael. The way this broad, strong creature can be thrown into nothing bit insecureness using only one sentence is stunning. He's not the proud, bloodthirsty predator he had just been hours ago, no, right now he's the small, innocent boy Michael had met at the camp. The devil can't supress the smile that's tucking at the corners of his lips. He turns his head to the side window to hide it. He shouldn't get distracted by such thoughts now, but if he does, he won't let Jason notice.

„Your jacket and your belt…“, Betty repeats in a fortunately softer and quieter voice, „…I need something else to wear.“. In the side mirror Michael sees her gesturing at the white clothes covering her body. She obviously already got Jasons slightly slow and innocent nature or maybe He. The lifing dead seems to understand. Hesitantely he peels out of his jacket and unbuckles his belt. What does she wants with his belt? She seems to be nice yeah, seems to be their ally and hasn't betrayed them when she roamed the woods earlier, but still, he doesn't trusts her. Michael said she's a friend and that should be enough to convince him, the demon calling a mortal friend! Maybe he's just too suspicious, not all mortals can be careless, lewd and low, right?

Her tiny hands snatch the items out of Jasons hands and she gets out of the car. „Turn around!“, she commands spinning her finger in the air. Both slashers stare out of the front window while she gets undressed. The rustling of clothes can be heared and just to be sure, Jason holds his hands to the sides of his face, using them as blinkers. Mother told him one doesn‘t watches when a girl changes her clothes, so he has to make extra sure he even doesn't catches an accidentaly glimpse. Why Michael is chuckling, he doesn't knows. His dark eyes stare into nothing through the front window, but they're sparkling again and that makes his dead heart do a flip. „Ok, what do you think?“, both their heads turn and from the corner of his eye, Jason sees the demons eyebrows rise high, even higher as before. Betty wrapped her self into the ripped and dirt and blood stained jacket, the belt wrapped around her waist. It gives the jacket an illusional cut and the fact that it is at least fife numbers too large for her makes it appear more like a dress than a jacket. Her arms probartely fit into the sleeves two times, so she has rolled them up just enough for her hands to stick out. It's not that Jason considers himself able to judge fashion, but this, it's nothing he would call suiting. But what should they do? Michael is wearing the same white clothes and there most likely isn't a botique hidden between the trees.

„Umm…it is…interesting…“, Michael mumbles, watching Betty turning around with her arms spread wide. At least, the jacket is dark and the blood just looks like the dirt. No one should be able to identify if it's blood or only mudd. She has opened up her piggy tails, the blonde curls now bouncing with every move she takes. If he had to name the style, the word would be brave, but as long as no one recognizes her, everything should be fine. There's only one detail left wich sticks out so sharp, it almost glows. „But…“, the demon says, pointing down to her feet. She's still wearing the white shoes from the sanatorium and though they’ll barely betray her carmoflage, they just doesn't fit in. Only the slightest possibility that someone could get an idea is too much. For a second, he even thinks about to cut that golden curls off, but decides against it, caurse a) He has no scissors or knifes and b) she probartely would kill him. An quiet Oh is everything she replies, slipping out of the shoes wich are a mix between a sneaker and a loafer, of course without shoestrings. Both slashers watch her go down on her knees, both having no idea what she's about to do. The penny drops when she rubs dirt from the forests ground onto the white fabric surface. The ground is wet and soft, soaked with the rain falling since the early morning and immediately it dyes the shoes in a brownish-black shade. Betty definitely is skilled and the demon smirks imagine this little girl as just as sneaky as he is. He doesn't notices the gaze of the blue eyes wandering over to him. It slides over the handsome face, the curved lips, the pale freckles and the white scar. He likes her, Jason thinks, watching his mate closely. He knows as good as nothing about her. Not how she met his demon, not where she comes from, not what her true intentions are, not what's so special about her, nothing. Only that she has also been trapped at the clinic and slowly it drives him nuts. And why is Michael smiling at her? He doesn't likes mortals, he hates them like the plague, what's different about this one?! For him, the girl could be any other ordinary victim, but for his demon, she obviously is something more. A feeling very simular to rage spreads inside him and he doesn't knows what it is. It burns, it lets anger rise and it increases the urge to rip off Bettys head, making his hands clenching into fists. What is that?

„Hey, is someone home?“, his mates voice snaps Jason back. He's still staring at that handsome face, but now it's staring back at him one brow quirked up, one furrowed. It's difficult to hold back, to not let his fingertips trace the scar, gracing the demons features so softly, but he does. Michael is still tense, still in alarm mode and a hand fiddling around in his face maybe isn't the best thing to calm his nerves…Looking around, Jason notices Betty is already gone. Wallowing in his thoughts, he hasn’t even noticed. She better pulls no shit or he gives a fuck if Michael claims her special or not. If she fucks up, he'll smash her.

\-----------------

„ _He doesn’t trusts us._ “, his bodyless voice whispers inside her head while she’s walking down the road, skipping here and there.

„Who?“

„ _The dead spirit of the crystal lake_.“

„Oh, you mean Jason…“, she chuckles and rolls her eyes, „…He will. He’s a suspicious boy, but when he knows us better, he will.“.

„ _The spirit protects the demon, he thinks we are a danger to his mate._ “

„But we aren’t, aren’t we? He’s in love head over heels, don’t be too hard on him.“

Nearing the gas station, she ends the conversation. Normally she wouldn’t give a fuck about people thinking she’s babbling to her self, but now it would be better to draw not too much of attention. Swinging the empty canister, she walks up, observing the few people who stray around there at night. The neon lights of the station tear sharply through the protecting darkness and for a short moment, she worries someone could recognize her. The people around certainly already know about the outbreak and be more suspicious and careful than usual. People usually use to walk blindly through the world, until something happenes…

Lurking in the shadows, she glimpses down her body. Jasons jacket is hanging heavily on her shoulders, filling her nose with a moldy and earthy scent. The smell immediately lets images of large and deep forests popping up in her mind. If she’s lucky, people will think she’s just mountain hermit. At least the blood splatters aren’t too obvious in the neon light, they appear black, drawing a dark pattern on the ripped fabric.

„ _There_.“

His voice makes her head snap up. He turns her gaze to a truck, parking next to the station. The driver is sitting in the drivers cabin, flipping through a magazine, seemingly bored by it’s content. He’ll be not so bored anymore soon. She needs money and though He could easily manipulate the cashier and everyone else to believe she payed for everything, He would only do it if there wasn’t any other option left. The other option now is the unfortunate man sitting in his truck, not knowing what’ll happen. She won’t kill him if not nescessary, still, a kill would draw a lot too much attention, but robbing him shouldn’t if she’s sneaky enough.

Approaching the truck, her hips sway from side to side. Her outfit isn’t the best for her plan , but usually men aren’t too much interested in outfits. It’s more what’s underneath what interests them. Even wearing the lumpy, white assamble hasn’t stopped some of the guards from groping. So, unless the guy isn’t just a truckdriver, but also a fashion critic, her plan should work out. When she knocks on the drivers side door, she plasters an innocent and shy smile onto her face and takes a weak looking stand. It openes slowly and an annoyed looking driver faces her. His glare slides over her, head to toe and she’s literally able to see the gears in his head move. Her appearance seems to fullfill it’s need, cause a frown shows up in the bearded face, obviously thinking she’s a dirty tramp.

„H-Hello Sir…“, she stutters, clutching the kanister and swaying slightly,“…I ran out of gas a few miles down the road and unfortunately out of money as well.“. His eyes narrow in suspicion, giving her a look of _oh, and how’s that my problem?_. She bows her head and conters with sad puppy eyes: „I…I need help, Sir. W-would you help me out?“.

„And why should I do that?“, he askes, slightly leaning out of the truck, about to grab the door and slam it shut.

„Wait! I really need help, Sir!...“, she shouts, pitching her voice extra high and desperately grabbing his arm, „…It’s night, I’m all alone and just want to get home! Please help me.“.

At first he looks as if he’s about to shove her off and get away, but when she adds: „I’ll make up for it, I’ll do everything!“, tears filling her eyes, his gaze changes. „Everything, huh?“, he asks with a smug smirk stretching his lips and she nods, still grabbing his arm thight. When he gets out of the truck, she can smell days on the road and tobacco on him. As much as it twists her stumache, she though follows him, walking in silence to the restrooms at the backside of the station. „Disgusting…“, she thinks, earning a deep and approving growl from _Him_ , when they enter the neonlight filled room. Immediately the tiles remind her of Smith’s Grove, but she shoves the thought away, following the man into one of the stalls.

„Then make yourself worth it.“, he says, locking the door and unbuckling his belt. Betty sinks onto her knees, a shudder of disgust running through her body when her bare knees touch the dirty floor. But it’s not only the floor what makes her shudder, the greedy and superior look in the mans eyes also makes her stomache twist again. She twitches back, when he pulls his length free, literally shoving it into her face. The days on the road can be smelled again and it’s hard to hold back the bile rising up in her throat. Pumping it, his free hand grabs the back of her head, pulling her closer. „Be a good girl.“, he commands, breathing heavily already and if she hasn’t planned to rob him anyways, this sentence would’ve done it!

With her fist clenched thight, she sends a hard punch straight to his groin. He winces in surprise and pain, sagging down, caughting and panting, his hands clutching betweem his legs and curses leaving his lips. „A good girl, huh?“, she spits, grabbing him by his hair. „ **Is. That. Good. Enough.?!** “, her voice echoes from the tiled walls when she hits his head onto the toilet bowl repeately. He’s groaning and trying to get a grab on her, but the impacts on the hard porcelain are taking it’s effects. His hands are weak and his moves unfocused. While he tries to get away somehow, she grabs his hair again and shoves his face into the bog. Immediately he begins to fidget and trash around in panic. _He_ helps her, lending her some of his strength but though she isn’t able to hold him under water as long as she wants to. A sharp inhale ripples through the stall, when she pulls his head back up again only to slam it down onto the bowl one last time. Sickened she lets go of the wet hair, whiping her hand on Jasons jacket as his body collapses between klo and wall knocked out cold. His forehead is decorated with a nice bleeding cut and in the next days he’ll suffer headaches and look like a moonscape. Thinking about it makes her smile triumphantly, while she crouches down and rumages through his pockets. She finds what she’s looking for in the inner pocket of his jacket. A dark brown wallet. Attacking him exhausted her and while she flipps it open, she takes a seat on the klo. First she checks the money. It’s not much, but it definitely is enough to purchase everything they need. Then she flips up the card section, looking for his drivers licens. „Oh…“, she says panting slightly but grinning, „…Thanks for the help Ralph.“.

\-----------------

In the distance an owl is shouting and every single time, something crackles inside the pitch black forest, Michael twitches and looks around. He's so on alert, that he barely allows himself to blink. There's a clock in the cars dashboard and Betty is gone since fourty minutes. She has to walk a mile, get the stuff and walk back a mile, fourty minutes is ok. It's not too long, certainly everything’s just fine. But what if not? What when her picture is running up and down the news and someone recognized her? What if that someone called the authorities and they‘ve already thrown her in the back of a van, thightly wrapped into a straightjacket? What if she sings? He doesn't thinks she would, but is far away from trusting her, trusting anyone. Jason is still sitting next to him, squeezed into the passengers seat like a tuna in a can. He hasn't said a word since Betty left, only his throaty breathing is radiating from him and slowly but steadily, it drives Michael crazy. He's close, very close to ask if he can't just breath a damn bit quieter when Jason suddenly speaks. „A-are you s-still… mad?“, he asks shyly, almost childlike, clenching his hands and staring down at his aching knees. Silence stretches for long moments, before Michael sights and answers: „I've never been mad. I've been just...hurt.“. _Hurt_ , it makes Jason flinch and his heart sink. The last thing he ever wanted to do was to hurt his love. But he did, he knows and the guilt still is devouring and suffocating him. He wants Michael to forgive him so desperately, but even he knows that something like that needs time. Much time and with Michael maybe even more than that. He can't bring his eyes to look up, afraid of the possible expression laying on the demons face.

„I'm…s-so sorry. Pl-please…“, the words almost get stuck inside his throat, forming a solid lump and it isn‘t because of his unused voice. „I know you are. I already said I believe you…“, the demons gaze pulls away from the darkness surrounding the car and shifts over to the lifing dead, „…I wish I could just say I forgive you, but I can't. Like you can't forget what you've seen. It had never been this easy.“.

Slender fingers slide over Jasons clenched left, a thump brushing over his knuckles, soothing him to losen his grip on his poor pants. Michael feels even warmer as he had in the dream realm. He feels alive, reviveing the dead nerves in Jasons rotting skin. „I've missed you.“, the demons voice whispers weakly and when Jason eventually dares to glance up, he sees the slight blush spreading on the high cheek bones. Now it's Michaels turn to look away, his gaze fixated on their joined hands. Awkward, that's what it is. Simply and unbearable awkward to voice such feelings, but something inside him just forced him to spit it out. He wants Jason to know, though he guesses he already knows, but he has to be sure. He wants him to know he still wants and needs him, even if there’s no such thing like forgiveness.

„I've m-missed you too.“, Jason says, slowly lifting his right. Hesitantely it cups the devils cheek, feeling the heat of the reddened flesh. It takes a moment, but then Michael leans into the touch. His eyes flutter shut, maybe becaurse of his embarressament, maybe becaurse he enjoys it, maybe both. The cold fingers carefully brush along the scar, tracing it almost in adoration. It feels weird, makes his skin crawl and feels like thousand needles piercing into it, but the same time it feels so calming. Through their bond, he can feel the lifing deads emotions. It's curiousity paired with affection, desire and love. A strange mixture, but it just fits Jasons equally strange nature. Memories about how he got the scar flash up in his mind and that’s the moment he has to open his eyes again to avoid any unwanted images from popping up. The warm gaze of Jasons blue eyes is what he sees and without his doing, his hand raises, slowly and carefully lifting the hockey mask just enough to reveal the damaged mouth. He has seen it before, kissed it, longed for it, but somehow now it appears even more vivid. The missing and exposed teeth, ripped flesh stretching over white jawbones, skin dark and rotting, hanging in shreds here and there, but though it actually should be a repulsive sight, he feels no disgust. What he feels is the twitch running through Jasons body and his energy tensing up. _Worried_ …, he muses, giving in to the distinct urge wich is gripping him without mercy.

The demon slowly moves closer, so slowly it seems like forever until Jason can feel his hot breath brushing over his damaged flesh. It lingers there for torturing moments, the only sound the light noise of silence, until release finally comes. First it’s like the ghost of a gentle touch, hesistant and shy, but none the less it already lets fireworks ignite in the lifing deads nervsystem. It’s so warm, so soft against his dead skin and for the first time out of the dream realm, Michael is so close, that he can hear his heartbeat drumming in his chest. It’s taking up in speed and Jason can hear how it pumps the demons blood through his vaines. He pushes against the soft lips, carefully, not sure if Michael is comfortable with it here in reality now. But obviously he is. It seems like he has waited just for this reaction, moaning quietly while the movements of his lips getting more intense until they slightly part, inviting Jason silently. A wave of heat rushes through his cold body and even if he wouldn‘t want it, he has to take the invitation. Insecurely his tongue slides past the soft lips, causing a satisfied and deep sight to emerge from Michael. Immediately it gets greated by the demons incredibly hot own, gently sliding against it, asking it for a so badly needed dance. And dancing they do. The deeper the kiss gets, the more their energies mingle, the farther Michael melts into the coolness of Jasons body. Quiet grunts and moans are vibrating through the wide chest, while the cold hands have found their place at the back of his neck and the small of his back, holding him in place. His own are resting on the sides of his lovers deformed head, holding it gently and absently tracing the bumbs and wounds. He could jump him right here and now in that damn car. Letting Jasons closeness scare away all the tenseness and pain wich are possesing his body and soul. Drowning, just drowning in the depths of the lake and being one with Jason forever. But it’s a wish that shouldn’t be granted, at least not for now.

„Hey guys!...“, Bettys bright, blarring voice announces her return loudly, „…Am I disturbing something? You should get used to it, I always had that special timing.“.

Without minding their tengled position and puffing breaths, she openes up a big bag and begins to take out several items and place them on the back seat. The two slashers are watching her, Michael slowly sliding back into the drivers seat. The dissapointed, little growl Jason exhales voices every of his thoughts very accurately. Indeed, great timing!


End file.
